


Throw Me to the Wolves (And I Return, Leading the Pack)

by grayscaleTestimony



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alpha Crowley (Good Omens), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Alternate Universe - Werecreatures, Crowley is Good With Kids (Good Omens), Crowley is smitten, Families of Choice, Family Dynamics, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Gabriel Isn't a Good Guy, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Neglect, Multi, Not Any Worse Than A Nature Documentary, Omega Aziraphale (Good Omens), Pack Dynamics, Pack Politics, Pregnancy, Violence, miscarriage - mentioned
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-02-16 12:04:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 27,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21507652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grayscaleTestimony/pseuds/grayscaleTestimony
Summary: Shifters have existed as long as regular humans have — and they've lived together, in a relative peace for a long time: packs and prides and groups living without any interference from each other. Crowley and Bee head their own pack on the north side of the mountain, and Gabriel his own at the southern base — with very different ideas of family and how to lead. It's on a cold autumn night when these two very different groups meet in the form of an Alpha leader and Gabriel's charge, an Omega. Little did either know that their lives would change forever.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Dagon/Beelzebub, Hastur/Ligur (Good Omens), Original Character(s)/Original Character(s)
Comments: 161
Kudos: 353





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This popped into my head while I was taking a shower about... a month ago and it's developed into a fic. With what will end up being a lot of chapters. I also have over 40 pages of lore in a _separate_ doc, which I might make into a separate companion piece, but I'm not sure yet. Please enjoy!

Aziraphale is seemingly running for his life. His breath comes in huffs, paws pounding against the thick layer of pine needles while his tongue lolls out the side of his mouth. He can hear the pounding of strides behind him slow, but he continues to run. If he stops now, he’d have to go back. He doesn’t want to go back, he _can’t_ go back. He keeps running until he’s sure he’s outside of their territory, and it feels like he’s gone on for eternity when he’s finally brave enough to stop. His legs quake with the effort from sprinting so long, his head bowed while he pants in breaths. He should shift out and find a town, but the full moon is only a day away and when he tries, it expends far too much effort. He considers hunkering down for the evening, finding somewhere soft and secluded to lay, but before he knows it he’s on his back with a snarling muzzle in his face.

Aziraphale whimpers in response, throat bared up and ears pressed flat against his skull. The wolf above him — large, a deep midnight-black with yellow-gold eyes practically glowing in the low light — has a large paw pressed against his chest, teeth bared and hackles raised. He’s acutely aware that he’s another Shifter — there’s too much sentience within his gaze for him not to be. Aziraphale licks at the other’s chin, a clear display of submission, a whine high in his throat. There’s a tense silence, Aziraphale’s eyes closed while he waits for the judgement. The pressure is relieved, and the wolf takes a few steps backwards and circles Aziraphale. He doesn’t move, too afraid to set the other off. He’s the alien wolf, after all, and many of the packs in the surrounding area were territorial and wouldn’t hesitate to kill an outsider. There’s a quiet huff before he’s being nudged, urged up. His tail is still between his legs when he stands, head bowed low. Another huff, and the wolf tilts his head away, tail slowly wagging.

_He wants me to go with him,_ Aziraphale thinks, and he only hesitates a moment — whoever this was could have killed him, but he didn’t and he was obviously kind enough to extend an offer for a stranger in his territory to accompany him. Aziraphale had nothing to lose, so trots beside him as they go through the dense aspen trees. Aziraphale’s new companion is very blatantly an Alpha — Aziraphale doesn’t need to scent him to know, he carries the title in the way he walks and acts. The rest of the night is spent hunting, carefully tiptoeing around body language. It’s nearing daybreak when Aziraphale is led to an abandoned foxden and his companion begins to shift out. Aziraphale waits until he’s completely done before he goes into the transformation himself, wincing at the soreness of his muscles and bones. His companion is… not what he was expecting.

Unruly red hair that hangs just past his shoulders, but the same golden eyes. He’s got high set cheekbones and a sharp jawline and golden eyes that look over Aziraphale as he stands in front of him. He’s wearing a tank top and a pair of biking shorts, and somehow looks better than Aziraphale in his own similar attire. He continues to look Aziraphale up and down as he himself stretches before bending down to lift the kills from their foxden hiding spot.

“Oh,” is the first thing Aziraphale says with his newly reclaimed vocal cords. “Thank you! For, ah, not killing me.”

“Not a problem,” he responds. “Name’s Crowley, by the way. Anthony Crowley — no one calls me that if they value their ability to walk.” Aziraphale gulps, eyes wide. Crowley snorts, shaking his head. “Nah. Just call me Crowley though.”

“I’m Aziraphale Engell,” he replies. Crowley quirks a perfectly-shaped eyebrow up.

“Your mum must’ve hated you,” he replies sarcastically. Aziraphale manages a laugh.

“My uncle named me. And for the record, he does.” Crowley doesn’t laugh this time, face going serious and stern, before he hands some of the game to Aziraphale to carry.

“Hmph. ‘S too long — I’m gonna call you Zira. That okay?” Crowley asks.

“Uh. Sure,” is all he gets out before Crowley is going on.

“Well, you can come back with me,” Crowley offers, setting off down the mountainside. Aziraphale hurries to keep up, stomach grumbling. It’s not winter yet, but already they were low on savings to go into town and struggling to find enough animals to hunt to feed the entire pack. Gabriel had delegated that those deemed “unworthy” were to go without food to give to those who hunted more frequently. It meant that Aziraphale had only managed to eat a spoonful of the eggs Uriel had brought for him before Gabriel nearly discovered her.

“I appreciate the hospitality,” he replies, offering a meek smile. Crowley nods, and they continue the walk in silence. Aziraphale doesn’t want to question the kindness of a stranger, but there’s anxiety pooling in the pit of his stomach as they approach what could only be called a cabin-manor. It’s nestled on a small plateau in the mountainside, built in the style of a log cabin. Surrounding it at the back are smaller cabins, lights off and their inhabitants most likely asleep. It overlooks the flat plain at the base of the mountains, and Aziraphale can see a pasture on the horizon where the ranchers are bringing in the cattle for the end of season. “You live here?”

“With the rest of the pack,” Crowley offers with a bashful smile. “It’s been in the family for a long time. Since we first settled here in the eighteen hundreds. Kept the accent from the ancestors, though.” Aziraphale nods.

“Yeah,” he responds dazedly, “us too.” He takes in the craftsmanship of the building as they get close — it’s massive, at least three stories, and a wraparound porch that they walk on as they get to the door. It’s unlocked as Crowley slinks in, letting Aziraphale into the dark room as he quietly shuts and locks the door. The light flicks on and Aziraphale jumps, spinning around. A man stands in the entryway to the kitchen, a look of indifference on his face. Crowley sighs, and Aziraphale can sense the eye roll without turning around to face him.

“You’re late,” the man says, crossing his arms. He looks like he’s been up waiting on Crowley, who just strides forward and hands the pile of fresh game off to him.

“It happens, Hastur,” Crowley responds.There’s a soft padding of paw pads on hardwood floor, and a large silver wolf shoulders their way past the man — Hastur, apparently — in the doorframe. “Hello to you too, Bee. Have a good night?” The new wolf shifts out, Aziraphale watching as they shake their hair out. It’s as wild as Crowley’s, but short and pitch black. There are raised, pink scars across their face, marring their freckles.

“Going to introduce us to your friend?” they ask, looking to Aziraphale. Crowley takes a step back to stand next to Aziraphale.

“This is Zira,” Crowley says brightly, “and his contribution to the pack for our hospitality.” Crowley takes the game from his arms, handing it off to Hastur. He nods, and disappears into the kitchen. "Aziraphale, this is—"

"Blaire Eidard Eilidh, the second of my name and a leader of the pack," they interrupt, one hand raised, "but you can call me Bee."

"The second leader of the pack," Crowley offers. Bee raises their head, chin held high. "They—"

"She," Bee interrupts. Crowley nods an apology. Aziraphale notices how tired she looks, yawning after her interruption to correct Crowley.

"She," he amends, "is my direct second and I hers. We’re the leaders of the pack." Bee turns her head to the kitchen, where Aziraphale can hear water running.

"That was Hastur. You'll see everyone else a bit later, when it’s actually habitable to be awake." She turns swiftly on her heel and walks down a hallway, presumably to sleep. Aziraphale looks to Crowley, who's smirking.

"You ever believe we're siblings?" he asks, laughing. Aziraphale manages a chuckle, shaking his head. “She’ll tell you different, but I’m the older one. Only two pups from our mum.” Aziraphale nods as Crowley takes his hand shyly, leading him down the hall.

“Oh— I—” Crowley stops, dropping his hand with the realization.

“Oh! No, no, nothing like that! I’m just showing you to a room, you must be exhausted,” Crowley offers. “It’s just dark. Everyone’s asleep, I didn’t want you to trip.” Aziraphale is glad for the darkness with the way his cheeks flush with embarrassment, but he finds Crowley’s hand in the dark. It’s a long hallway, but then Crowley opens a door and turns the light on in the room. Aziraphale manages a quiet little gasp.

“It’s _cozy_ ,” he says in astonishment. There’s a queen size bed pressed against the center of one wall, a plaid ( _tartan_ , Aziraphale corrects) bedspread laid out on it. The only wall that’s painted is a warm tan, the rest of the walls the same original wood. There’s a furry rug — Aziraphale thinks it might be a bear pelt — at the foot of the bed, and a cozy armchair facing a window. There’s a fireplace in one corner and a stack of wood already prepared for winter adjacent to it. It’s a far better room than the one Aziraphale had at the ranch house.

“You don’t have a room like this where you’re from?” Crowley asks. Aziraphale shakes his head, tentatively taking a step forward. It’s warm, even without the fireplace lit, and it suddenly feels like _home._

“Like I said,” Aziraphale says softly, “my uncle doesn’t like me. Even if I am technically the next to lead after him.” Crowley actually manages a snarl. Aziraphale startles at it, but then there’s a warm hand on his shoulder.

“Sorry,” Crowley apologizes, “I just hate packs that run on fear of a leader, and mistreat their own.” There’s a pause, as if Crowley’s at war with himself, before he speaks again. “You can stay here as long as you want. You don’t have to go back, even, we accept new wolves in all the time. You don’t have to deal with that.” Aziraphale smiles sweetly, turning back to Crowely.

“I appreciate that.” There’s a heavy pause before Aziraphale yawns, exhaustion suddenly overtaking him. “I think I need to sleep before I make any life-changing decisions.” Crowley snorts and backs out from the doorway, a hand on the knob.

“Goodnight, Zira. See you in the _proper_ morning.” He shuts the door, leaving Aziraphale alone to crawl into bed and drift into a dreamless sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two! I must apologize for the break; I've been writing a _ton_ for this AU to try and make more regular posting schedules, so expect a lot more for this work! I super appreciate the response this has gotten and I'm glad everyone is liking it! I hope you enjoy this chapter, in which Crowley's absolutely smitten.

Aziraphale wakes hours later, feeling better but still worn. When he stretches and looks around the room, there are clothes laid out on the chair and a bowl of oatmeal and a glass of orange juice on the nightstand. He devours the oatmeal in bed, sighing at the feeling of being even _close_ to full for the first time in days. He lies in bed a little longer, content in the warmth, before he decides it’s best time to get up to socialize. He strips out of the grimey Shift-wear, piling it in the corner of the room before changing into the soft sweater and sweatpants laid out on the chair for him. He straightens the bed up, grabs the dishes from breakfast, and heads out and down the hallway.

The house is bustling with activity. Just as he walks down the hall, he can hear commotion from the main area. A little girl darts past him, giggling all the while. By the time he reaches the end of the hall, there’s light and a feeling of warmth in the space. A few paces from the front door is the living room, and there are people lounged on the couches — Hastur is one of them, head resting against a sleeping man. Based on the matching rings and the raised mating bites, Aziraphale assumes they’re a pair. Bee emerges from the kitchen, carrying a sandwich in one hand and a glass of water in the other.

“Oh,” she says, pleasantly surprised. “You’re awake. Are you still hungry? Stuff for sandwiches is out still.” His stomach growls and he blushes, but his reaction prompts Bee to turn and yell. “Oy! AJ, make Zira a sandwich!”

“Oh, he doesn't need to—”

Bee waves him off, gesturing towards the kitchen. “‘S nothing, you can go in there and keep him company, if you’d like.” She walks off back the other direction towards a staircase, disappearing after a moment. Aziraphale turns and heads into the kitchen.

“Good morning,” Crowley greets, positioned at the far end of the counter. His long hair is up in a messy bun, and he’s clad in a pair of sweatpants and a faded tee shirt. Aziraphale pads over to sit at the table by the window, resting his head on his fist. “Do you take mayo on yours?” At Aziraphale’s disgusted expression he laughs, pushing it aside before walking over with a plate. “I hope you like ham and cheese.”

“Oh! Yes, it’s— I like it, thank you,” he stutters out, taking the plate. He takes a bite of the sandwich and groans, head tilted back. Crowley chuckles, taking the scrunchie from his hair and shaking the curls out. They almost give him a halo they way they fan out as he shakes his head, fiery and vibrant in the sunlight coming in through the window.

“Oatmeal wasn’t enough after all of last night I take it?” Crowley jokes, a lopsided smile on his face. Aziraphale shakes his head, taking another bite before he speaks again.

“I haven’t had a real meal in _days_ ,” he answers, doing his best not to scarf the meal down. Crowley’s eyebrows knit together, smile disappearing. Aziraphale finishes his bite before continuing, “We have a food shortage in our territory when we can’t make it to town, and those of us who are — well — fat, we don’t get as much food.”

“ _What?”_ Crowley spits, tone tense and dripping venom. “What do you— you’re telling me they _starve_ you?” He paces angrily a few steps, running a hand through his hair to seemingly calm himself. “That’s— _no_ , that’s not how that should work. Everyone gets a meal, no matter if there's ‘not enough food’, you make _sure_ there’s enough food. The leader knows about this?”

“Gabriel put it into place,” Aziraphale says, finishing the last few bites of sandwich. “And he’s the leader. We listen to him because what he says, goes.” Crowley has to take a few more deep breaths before he continues on his train of thought. Aziraphale pushes the plate away, looking up at Crowley expectantly. “Is that… that’s not normal here, is it?”

“No,” Crowley answers after another deep breath to compose himself. He opens his mouth to speak, but he’s cut off by the pattering of bare feet into the kitchen, two flashes of blue and gray running into his legs. He lets out an _oomph_ , nearly being knocked off his feet. When Aziraphale looks over the table, there are two children still in pajamas attached to one of Crowley’s legs each. The Alpha laughs, scooping both of them up in his arms and giving them a playful stare down.

“Uncle AJ!” one exclaims while he beams. “We were wondering when you were getting out of bed!” Crowley snorts, rolling his eyes dramatically.

“Not all of us rise with the sun, Rory,” he tells him before turning to who Aziraphale assumes is his niece. “And what say you, Ada? Is your dear old uncle allowed to sleep in on a weekend?” The little girl scrunches her nose while she sticks her tongue out. "Such little fiends, you are."

“Momma says we’re ind— indagn—”

“ _Indigent,_ ” a voice offers as another pack member enters the kitchen, her red-brown hair hanging past her shoulders. She smiles softly, coming forward to scoop the children up into her own arms. She presses kisses to their foreheads, laughing when they inevitably begin to struggle. She relents and lets them down, telling them to behave before she turns to Aziraphale. “It’s good to see you’re up. I’m Dagon — Bee’s mate."

“It’s a pleasure,” Aziraphale replies, standing up and reaching out to shake her hand. “And your pups, I presume?”

“Yes,” she replies, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. “There are days I curse Blaire for giving our babies the innate ability to know _exactly_ when the sun rises.” Aziraphale laughs while Crowley scoffs, taking Aziraphale’s plate to put in the sink.

“They’re hobgoblins,” Crowley deadpans to him, “evil little creatures of mischief. I adore them with my entire being.” Aziraphale laughs, watching as the children chase each other around the living room. There’s a dull _thunk_ and Dagon snorts and rolls her eyes, turning on her heel.

“I’ve got to go wrangle them before they cause any mischief. It was wonderful to meet you Aziraphale, and I do hope you’ll stay a while.” She leaves the kitchen, calling out for the children as she goes. Aziraphale watches as she scoops them both up, pressing kisses to their faces. Crowley stands next to him, looking equally enthralled and fond of his niece and nephew.

“You want kids?” Aziraphale asks him, taking in the pleased look on his face. Crowley was, apparently, not ready for that question — he makes a choked noise, tensing up.

“I— yeah, one of these days, maybe. Haven't found anyone to put up with me in the long term yet.” He offers a nervous chuckle as he puts the plate in the dishwasher, turning and leaning against the counter. “I'd like to be a father. One like mine.”

“Is he… around?” Aziraphale asks carefully. Crowley shakes his head. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

“He’s been gone a long while, he and mum.” Crowley shrugs. “Since we were eleven.” Aziraphale winces, looking out the window to avoid the look on Crowley’s face.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” he says after a moment. “Losing both parents must have been hard.” The two sit in silence, Crowley looking at Aziraphale bathed in the afternoon light that comes in through the window while Aziraphale looks out at the landscape. His heart swells, blush coming across his face before he shoves it back down. He’s known Aziraphale for less than _two days_ , and now he’s fawning over him like a child?

“It is what it is,” Crowley replies, clearing his throat. “I had them for as long as I did and that’s more than what some kids get. I had my uncle and Asmodeus to look after me and Bee and they raised us well.” Aziraphale perks up at that.

“Will I meet the rest of everyone today, then?” he asks. Crowley shrugs.

“There’s quite a few of us,” Crowley explains, “and we spread out more during the day. I think everyone will be home tonight, though. If you’d like to stay.” Aziraphale looks worried then, wringing his hands close to his chest.

“I’d hate to be a bother—”

“It’s an invitation,” the Alpha interrupts, “and you’d never be a burden— not here, you wouldn’t.” Aziraphale looks up and beams at him, and Crowley stutters for words. “I mean— um— however long you’d like to stay, of course, since—” He wants to hit himself because now he’s flushed and tripping over his words, making a fool of himself. The Omega laughs, moving to take Crowley’s hand in his.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, “it does mean a lot.” There’s a soft smile gracing his features, nearly angelic, and it takes everything in Crowley’s power not to lean down and press a peck to his cheek then and there. If he’d been raised with anything, it was with the idea that courting was important and to respect people’s boundaries. Crowley flushes and pulls his hand away from Aziraphale, scratching at the nape of his neck with an awkward smile.

“I— I’ll show you around the property!” he offers suddenly, trying to find a way to stay near him. “Or around the house, you must want a nice shower.” Aziraphale smiles another one of those sweet, lopsided smiles and Crowley resists the urge to remark on how cute it is. “Alright then, come on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's chapter two! Drop me a comment of your thoughts or if you want to discuss something (or have questions for the universe! I've got tons of lore!), I don't bite! Leave a kudos if your enjoyed, they always make my day, and ask about any speculations you have for the plot going forward! I have the fic completely outlined (and about a half to 3/4 of the way written!), so if you've predictions, let me know! Thank you so much for reading, it means the absolute world to me!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter! I've finally caught up with schoolwork (and have more chapters written to immediately follow), the next chapter WILL be up on Wednesday the 18th.

Crowley does show him around. They leave the kitchen and Aziraphale’s introduced to the pack members gathered in the living room, including Hastur’s mate — a Beta he’s introduced to as Ligur, who welcomes him into the house while reclining casually on his husband. There’s a set of sisters — Abbadon and Vespar — that introduce themselves as they leave with a plate of food and two bottles of water, telling Crowley that Beleth (their other sister, Crowley explains as they walk away) needed tending while she dealt with her first heat. Crowley nods his head, telling them to give her his best wishes.

Aziraphale’s surprised at the frankness; Gabriel wouldn’t tolerate such open discussions of heats, or “needless Omega prattle” as he’d call it. Normally, he’d send the pack’s Omegas away for them to be as far as possible to not “distract” anyone else (he meant the Omegas, but he didn’t have to say it since everyone already knew) — Aziraphale hadn’t been any exception, but he was thankful to have found an old hunting cabin long abandoned to use when his own came up.

Crowley leads him through the house, pointing out what rooms are what and who they’re inhabited by. A majority of the doors are open, individuals waving and introducing themselves as they approach for small talk. He imagines this is what dorm life would be like, everyone living together closely and being open with each other.

There’s Abbadon and Vespar and Beleth, of course — though the door is closed, a Do Not Disturb sign left on the door. Crowley explains that it’s a common occurrence to let the immediate family members tend to the Omega, if only to limit their stress. They keep moving down the line, an older girl introducing herself as Legion and eagerly greeting Aziraphale and offering to go shopping with him. Aziraphale politely declines, but Legion reminds him that the offer will still stand if he decides to stay. It surprises him a bit, to have so many people willing to welcome him in, but it’s a nice change of pace. It is, however, a bit overwhelming.

Aziraphale tries to be extroverted, but he’s not used to talking so much and to socializing with so many people before. After a while, he starts to get antsy and anxious the longer people stay and chat. Crowley must notice after a few minutes into socializing, making an excuse to the pack member they’re talking to now — Phoenex, a loud and intense Omega with a long, pale scar across her face — of why they need to cut the conversation short before. She bids them a goodbye, a gentle hand on Aziraphale’s arm with a warm smile on her face.

“Hope to see more of you around,” she says cheerily, clapping his shoulder before gently shooing him off to follow Crowley with an almost-overlooked wink. Aziraphale’s face flushes pink before he hurries off to fall in step with Crowley, moving down the hall. He worries his hands together, trying to steady the shakiness in his hands.

“Sorry about that,” Crowley apologizes, “I know that they — we — can all be a bit much, when you’re so new.” Crowley pauses, chuckling and scratching the back of his head. “Or… always.”

“Oh, really, it’s fine! It’s— they’re very nice, is all,” Aziraphale replies, looking away from Crowley. “It’s nice that they cared and wanted to talk. They even keep their doors open!” Crowley chuckles, giving him an amused sideways glance.

“We’ve always been close, like this.” Crowley turns a corner to a set of stairs, going up them slowly. “Ever since I was a kid, even if we weren’t all raised together. Can’t remember a time any of us were very closed off.” Crowley frowns for a fraction of a second, expression conflicted. “Nothing like that where you’re from, huh?”

“Not… really.” This time Aziraphale gives a nervous chuckle, ducking his head low in a show of submission. He doesn’t see the way Crowley winces at the display, nearly reaching out before deciding otherwise. “It’s just not how we… operate, I suppose you could say.” Crowley lifts an eyebrow, turning his head away for a moment to swallow down his dissatisfaction.

“It sounds like your pack’s a damn dictatorship,” he teases, shooting the Omega a lopsided grin in an attempt to try and ease the tension. Aziraphale shrugs, trying to force a smile. He doesn't think it works, based on how Crowley looks at him.

“Once my mom died, it was Gabriel’s turn to lead. I was too young,” he offers. “Besides, I’m more or less written out of being a leader. Gabriel has put Sandalphon as his second, which means he’d be next to lead. Another Alpha, he and Gabriel grew up together.” Crowley furrows his brows, shaking it off as they get to the top of the stairs.

“The bathroom’s that one there, on the left,” he says with a gesture, “and the towels are in the closet inside. I can have someone run up other clothes, if you—”

“Oh, no, these are fine, really! They’re quite comfortable, and I just got them this morning,” Aziraphale interrupts, a bashful smile on his face. “I feel bad taking advantage of all of this already, I—”

“It’s not taking advantage if it’s being offered,” Crowley counteracts, trying to be soft with the new member of the pack (Crowley was already making plans to give Aziraphale a permanent room and discuss permanent pack status with Bee — Aziraphale didn’t need to know that yet). Aziraphale’s shoulders drop slightly, his posture going more lax.

“You’re sure, Anthony? Really, I don’t want to take anything from you all...” Aziraphale questions again, voice dripping with sincere concern. Crowley rolls his eyes and by sheer force of will avoids blushing.

“Positive, Zira,” he reassures. Aziraphale nods and turns heel to enter the bathroom, door clicking shut behind him. Crowley does his best not to melt right in the hallway, managing to go back downstairs before letting his heart flutter in his chest. He plops himself into a chair at the kitchen table, folding his arms before putting his forehead atop them. Bee walks by, raising an eyebrow.

“Everything alright?” she asks, passing by with Rory on one hip and Adaira on the other. There’s a knowing smirk across her face, one eyebrow raised.

“Fine,” Crowley responds through his teeth, trying to figure out the best course of action. The last thing he wanted was to spook Aziraphale — he didn’t want to drive him back to the other pack with any brash advances.

“Sure about that?” Bee snarks back, rocking back and forth with Rory. The boy’s almost asleep, eyes drooping low while Adaira dozes with her head against Bee’s shoulder. It’s nearly time for he and Adaira’s afternoon naps, and they’d been running around all morning — the poor things must be tired. Crowley lets out an unamused grumble, curling his lip up.

“Must you be so irritating?” he snaps, lifting his head from his arms. He keeps his voice down, careful not to wake his niece and nephew lest Bee put an end to him then and there. The twins always were a pain to put down for naps as infants, and more often than not they were too restless and hyperactive to want to settle.

“It won’t hurt to talk to him,” she croons in his general direction, hushing the children to settle as they adjust. She huffs with a roll of her eyes, heading back for the hallway. “I’m going to put them down for their nap. Good luck, nerd.” Bee snorts and walks away, humming while she goes.

“Oh, bite me,” Crowley fires back as she disappears from sight. He groans before hitting his head on the table, closing his eyes.

He’s completely, thoroughly, fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly love introducing characters and I loved coming up with a bunch of characters to use in this 'verse, and there are an equal amount over in Gabriel's pack that will be making appearances!! I hope you enjoyed, and I am again so sorry for the wait! Please leave a kudos or a comment if you'd like, and have a good day!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter! The best part of quarantine is the ability to write and edit. Enjoy!

It’s the first hot shower Aziraphale’s had in what feels like years. He knows it’s not — sometimes he’d be able to snag the shower before someone with a better status did, and he’d get hot water — but the way it eases the anxiety from his muscles is worth the wait. There’s plenty of soap for him to choose from too — not the abrasive bar soap back at the ranch house, and not the drying two-in-one shampoo and conditioner. He takes his time in the shower, just standing under the hot spray while he thinks.

He would love to stay here, with this new pack. They all seemed to like him, and they seemed far nicer than other members of the pack back home. They kept their doors open, they had meals together — they let their Omegas stay with them, even when heats hit! That was _unheard_ of with Gabriel, he’d never let anyone stay for a heat — or a rut, for that matter. He insisted it would only threaten his own authority over everyone else. Aziraphale didn’t buy it — he figured it was just because Gabriel didn’t want to deal with the necessary pack dynamics to go along with the heats and ruts.

Aziraphale finally decides to get out of the shower when his fingers start to prune so much they’re tender. The towel he grabbed before getting in is waiting for him, sitting on the toilet. It’s the softest he’d ever been able to use, not the threadbare ones back home that were left after everyone else was done. He puts back on the clothes he’d been given in the morning, snuggling up in the warm fabric of the sweater. Admittedly, he’d hate to give it back if he had to — it’s cozy and soft and _warm_ , in both the physical and emotional way. He makes sure to clean up the bathroom as much as he can, mopping up any excess water, and puts the towel into the hamper between the toilet and sink before he leaves the bathroom.

He goes back down the stairs, treading carefully to be as quiet as he can. The clock he passes reads that it’s just before one, only an hour and a half after he’d woken up. It seems like nearly everyone has settled into their rooms or onto the couches in the living area to nap for a while, many of them laying on top of one another. Aziraphale feels like he’s intruding, until Dagon catches sight of him.

“Well,” she says, tilting her head towards the spot next to her, “come and make yourself comfortable. I’m sure you’re still tired.” She adjusts, making sure there’s enough room for him to squeeze in. Bee is resting her head on Dagon’s lap, one arm curled protectively around her middle while she dozes. One of Dagon’s hands is rested in the Alpha’s hair, rubbing soothingly back and forth. Aziraphale sits, careful not to wake anyone else. Dagon relaxes again, half-leaning on Aziraphale. Without hesitation, he releases the tension he’s holding in his body and reclines against the arm of the sofa.

“Thank you,” he says, quiet as to not wake anyone, “for— well, letting me sit here. With you and everyone.” Dagon turns her head to look at him, raising an eyebrow.

“Is this… not commonplace for you?” Aziraphale doesn’t answer, instead looking away. Dagon lets out a low hum, turning back away from him in favor to half-lean against his arm. “This is just how it is here. We’re close. It’s good for people to have human touch, you know. Good for pups, too, and people carrying.” Dagon rests a hand against her belly, rubbing her thumb back and forth. It doesn’t take long for Aziraphale to connect the dots.

“Oh! I— congratulations, how long have you known?” he asks, keeping quiet as to not wake the sleeping Alpha.

“A few weeks, now,” she replies, “We’ve been trying for a while now — since the twins were two. Guess now is just the right time.” Aziraphale smiles and nods, thinking back to his own pack. While he had a strong disdain for the people in power — his uncle and his second — the rest of his family were not like their leaders. Most had been in the pack when Aziraphale’s mother had still been in power, most of them either just born or toddlers. They’d only ever grown up under Gabriel’s thumb, frightened of his short temper. Aziraphale wasn’t excluded from them.

“You must be so excited,” he continues, “and Bee too.” Dagon huffs out a laugh, hand idly carding through the mess of Bee’s short hair. “Does everyone know?”

“More or less. I’m fairly certain that Crowley knew before I did, the way he was hovering. He was like that when I was pregnant with the twins, too.” Dagon pauses to roll her eyes before continuing, “He and Bee were at each other’s throats, with all the hormones going ‘round.” This time it’s Aziraphale’s turn, muffling a snort with his hand.

“He does seem to get on well with the kids,” he replies.

“Always has. Don’t let him fool you, he’s a pushover when it comes to us. Can’t say no to any of the pups, either.” Dagon half-nudges him with her elbow. “Or a cute guy he runs into in the woods.” Aziraphale blushes red, stuttering for a response. Before he can, she waves him off. “I’m only teasing. ‘Sides, we’re going to wake someone up with all this chit chat. It’s time for a nap.” Aziraphale nods, yawning. He _was,_ after all, rather tired — especially after feeling clean. He settles back, cushioning his arms under his head before closing his eyes. It’s the safest he’s felt somewhere in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! The next chapter will be up within the week, I'm thinking about making Wednesdays the designated update day! Please leave a comment or a kudos if you enjoyed and, as my civic duty to remind everyone, please VOTE and WASH YOUR HANDS!


	5. Chapter 5

Nearly a month passes with little excitement. Dagon officially tells everyone that she and Bee are expecting another baby and while most everyone knew without it being said, there’s still a small celebration to be had. Dagon’s gifted a knitted hat from a friend from the city, Anathema, and a congratulation in the form of a card from Crowley and Bee’s uncle. For Aziraphale, it’s nice to see such a tight-knit group and to be incorporated into a celebration about family.

Aziraphale can’t help but notice how happy Crowley is. He hovers around Dagon, a majority of the party, flitting between her and Bee and talking to Aziraphale. He’s been wonderful to Aziraphale since he’s settled in, making sure he’s comfortable and feeling safe. He’d told Aziraphale that the room he’d been using since being with the pack was his — _really_ his — if he wanted to stay.

“I could never take advantage—”

“Zira,” Crowley had interrupted, “it’s not taking advantage. It’s because we want you here, because you _belong_ here. You deserve to be somewhere safe.” Aziraphale hadn’t known what to say, instead deciding to just throw his arms around his friend and try not to cry. Crowley had tensed up, taking a moment before his arms had come around his shoulders to return the hug.

Aziraphale jumps back to the present, shaking his head minutely to snap himself out of the memory. Crowley seems to recognize it, getting a bottle of water from the kitchen island before making his way over to Aziraphale.

“You feeling alright?” the Alpha asks, brows raised. Aziraphale’s scent is the same — different from the rest of the pack’s still, but he’s not frightened or distressed. Crowley makes sure he’s not posturing, in any way, slouching and avoiding eye contact. In the time he’s known Aziraphale, he’s realized a few things.

One: He knows that Aziraphale’s pack rules with fear, and he’s learned that it means he’s easily frightened and intimidated. He’s afraid of the same thing happening while under Crowley and Bee’s leadership, but he’s opened up to the pack. This leads to two: Aziraphale _trusts_ him, and Crowley would rather be beaten black and blue than to betray that trust. Finally, there’s three: Crowley’s completely smitten with him. He can’t believe it, but he knew it to be true when Aziraphale had given him what could constitute a college lecture on Oscar Wilde’s _The Picture of Dorian Gray._ Crowley wasn’t even _bored,_ he listened intently and even decided to read it for himself.

Now it’s Crowley who’s snapping out of it, just as Aziraphale takes the bottle and their fingers brush together.

“It’s nothing,” Aziraphale replies, eyes downcast. “It’s just… I feel like I’m home now. I miss some of my packmates, but I feel safe here. I feel _cared_ about here. And… I think I want to stay. For good.” He looks up, a bashful smile playing at his lips. “If you’d all have me.”

“We’re happy to have you,” Crowley says back, trying to ignore the way his heart flutters in his chest. “And if you need to go back to get anything — clothes, books, whatever you need — we’ll be with you, whoever you want to come with you. We’ll keep you safe.” Aziraphale mulls it over for a moment, nodding.

“Sometime later. I have friends back home who’ll keep it safe until then.” Crowley nods, looking back just as Dagon lets out a loud cackle at something Phoenex said. Aziraphale smiles at the interaction before taking one of Crowley’s hands. “Thank you, Anthony.”

“I— it’s _nothing_ ,” Crowley stutters out, doing his damnedest not to let himself blush. “Any good friend would do the same.”

“Of course,” Aziraphale replies, a hint of cheek in his voice. “I think I’m all socialized-out for the day, if you need me I’ll be in my room.” Crowley can only dumbly nod as Aziraphale turns tail and walks away, leaving Crowley with butterflies in his stomach.

He’s said it once, he’ll say it again. He’s completely fucked.

It’s a chilly morning when Aziraphale sets out, beginning to shift as he closes the front door. He’s trotting along, enjoying the lack of snow and the low-hanging clouds. It’s nearing the end of October, and the first large snowfall should be coming any day, and it will be one of the last times a good run will be able to be had. Aziraphale didn’t care for snow — it was pretty, sure, and it was pleasant to cuddle up into a pile to stay warm, or curl up under a blanket and read a book, but with winter came hard commutes and less to do.

“You’ll never need to worry about that here,” Crowley had assured him earlier in the week, laid up atop the covers in Aziraphale’s bed. Crowley had taken to spending more time with Aziraphale in his room, and he’d even made a few runs into town to buy books to add to the shelves in his room. “You’ll always be warm and safe and well-fed, dove.” The memory warms Aziraphale’s heart as he breaks into a full run across the short field in front of the woods, paws thumping against the frozen ground. It had been a long time since he’d ran like this, content with the wind in his ears.

It all comes crumbling down once he gets to the thick line of trees, rushing toward the boundary of the North pack’s territory. One moment he’s running, free as a bird, and the next there’s a set of jaws around his throat. He screams out a shocked cry, echoing through the trees before he’s sprawled on his back. He kicks and thrashes, howling out a choked note as the grip around his throat tightens. He tries to twist out, unwilling to expose his throat to an attacker. There’s a familiar snarl quickly followed by a rush of smell to Aziraphale’s twitching nose.

 _Gabriel._ When he takes another shaky inhale, there are others — Uriel and Michael’s scents, radiating fear and hesitance. Sandalphon comes into view above him, teeth bared with a snarl when Aziraphale stares him down. Aziraphale knows if he moves too suddenly, he will be left to bleed out without a second thought. So he submits, willingly baring his throat with a quiet whine. Gabriel doesn’t let him up, instead raising his hackles with another growl. Blue-violet eyes bore down into Aziraphale, as if challenging him to try something. He holds perfectly still, waiting for his uncle to eventually let him up. It comes after another moment, and Aziraphale is immediately flanked by the other wolves and is being herded back towards territory he hadn’t been in for weeks. If he were to howl to hopefully alert someone back at the house, they would maim him and leave him for dead. There is nothing he can do but follow and wait until someone notices his absence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone's doing well in quarantine, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter! It is, admittedly, getting real (and please watch tags, just in case!). The highlight of my day is always seeing comments, everyone's so nice. Stay safe and healthy!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The BIGGEST thank you to my friend Shay_Moonsilk for beta'ing the next two chapters! If you haven't, go check out her amazing fics!

When Crowley wakes up, he knows something is off. The house is too silent for nine o’ clock in the morning, the smell is different when he takes a deep breath in. Something is _wrong_ , and he is determined to find out what. Instead of going into the living area in pajamas, he chooses his shifting gear instead — a pair of tight shorts and skin-tight tank top, snug enough to withstand going between forms. There’s something in his gut telling him to, urging him that he needs to _go, run, find._ He only puts on shoes because he knows that Bee will yell at him if he doesn’t and upon shifting later, would be left without shoes in the mountains with snow threatening to fall. He pads down the stairs and makes his way to the living room. Everyone is gathered there, and all eyes turn to him looking devastated — as if they were telling him someone has died. He feels like a child all over again, when he’d been told his mother had died. His stomach drops and he stutters a moment before finding the words.

“What is it?” he asks, looking around the room. It hits him then — Aziraphale is not present. He is nowhere to be seen, an odd occurrence in recent days, as he’d been making himself more at home with pack affairs. Aziraphale is not there, he wouldn’t just _not be there._ His blood runs cold and his mouth goes dry as he tries not to panic. When he and Crowley had last spoken, Aziraphale had said he wouldn’t leave, he had _told_ Crowley that he had no intentions of going back. Crowley turns to Bee, who looks as stricken as he feels. “Where is he?”

“Belia, Legion, and Stenno were out checking the borders today,” Bee says evenly. Dagon is next to them, holding her mate’s hand with another resting on her belly, just beginning to show her pregnancy. “When they reached the south border, they smelled unfamiliar wolves. When they followed the scent, they saw a group of wolves seemingly taking Aziraphale by force. They recognized at least one as Gabriel. Aziraphale didn’t look badly injured, but they did smell blood.” Crowley only barely manages to contain a growl in the back of his throat.

Bee walks over to him. “Tell us what to do." Crowley nods, fists clenched. He has to keep a cool head.

“Dagon,” he says evenly, turning to her, “I want you here with the pups. Asmodeus, Vespar, you too. We need you here to be ready in case of injuries upon arrival back. We know they won’t leave this without a fight.” Asmodeus nods, already up and heading for the master bathroom to gather supplies. Bee lets out a sigh of relief, gripping Dagon’s hand.

Crowley turned to the rest of the pack, saying, “The rest of us go. We get Aziraphale, we leave. If they do something, we leave with as little conflict as possible, the last thing we need is red tape. Understood?” There are agreements murmured all around as the pack disperses to change into proper shift attire. Once they’ve cleared the room, Crowley deflates, feeling responsible.

“None of that,” Bee says sternly. “As your brother I am _not_ letting you mope. You’ll let your guard down and get killed that way, and then you can never make love-eyes at Aziraphale again.” Crowley sputters, mouth opening and closing before he settles for a face of displeasure instead of words. Soon, emotion comes choking up his throat like bitter bile and he speaks. He hates the emotional whiplash the situation’s causing — for everyone most likely, not just him.

“They took my bes—” He corrects himself quickly “My friend. They took my friend, and someone they had _no right_ to come after. Why would Gabriel even _bother,_ it’s not as if he gives a damn about him!” Crowley seethes, baring his teeth in a somewhat-snarl. Bee rubs his back, soothingly, something he’s been good at since they were children.

“Could be a display of power,” Bee offers. “Make an example out of one so no one else has enough courage to leave.” Crowley nods, looking out the window across the room. The wind’s picked up, kicking leaves and dried brush over. It reflects the coming freeze, with low-hanging thick gray clouds blanketing the sky predicting the season’s first snow.

“If something happens to him,” Crowley says under his breath, eyes unfocused as he stares out the window, “If we can’t help him, if we can’t—” Bee puts a hand on his arm, pulling him in for a hug. He’s much shorter than Crowley, but Crowley leans down to rest his chin on his shoulder.

“We’ll get him back,” Bee says fiercely. “Right now, though, we need our heads in the game. We can't help him if we’re not mentally on top of things.” Crowley nods.

“You’re right,” he says, “as always.” Bee pulls away, giving his brother a smirk before stretching.

A few seconds later, Hastur and Ligur come back into the main room donned in tight tee shirts and shorts. Quickly, the rest of the pack follows suit to meet in the living room. The tension is running high, most of them pacing or whispering tensely to themselves. Crowley takes a breath before turning to the pack in front of him. Bee nods to him, face set with determination.

“Okay. Let’s go.” Crowley and Bee move first, as the leads, and the rest follow as they leave the house.

They shift, adjusting to the new senses and bodies, and in a moment they’re all off on a lope following Crowley, Legion, and Stenno.

Aziraphale hadn’t been stupid when they’d taken him. He’d make sure to cause disturbances in the ground, leave blood rubbed on tree trunks or stones. What Crowley also picked up on, though, was the smell of fear and desperation. It made Crowley’s stomach churn and his heart race with fury. Aziraphale had been with them for _weeks_. Who the _hell_ did Gabriel think he was to come onto _Crowley’s_ territory and attack one of _his_ packmates? The fur on his neck rises with the thought, eyes narrowing. Legion offers a whine of comfort, carefully brushing her shoulder against Crowely’s as they lope along. He’s sure Bee would be doing the same, but he’s bringing up the rear to watch for any ambushes. It’s safer that way, but then again — Crowley remembers Aziraphale’s mention of hard times in winter and fall, and he wonders if there will even be a fight if the pack members are malnourished or underfed.

He can feel it when they cross the boundary line. The smells are different, and as they begin the descent down the mountain, the weather changes. It grows cooler as they leave the protection of the trees, winds beginning to pick up more than they already had. The first few flurries have begun to fall, melting quickly as they hit the ground. Crowley can see the homestead in the distance, smoke pluming up from the chimneys. He’s seen the South pack’s residence before, in passing — he’s well traveled in the area, and he made it known to have relations with a majority of the packs in the surrounding territories that had been established for generations. None of them were as large as North or South, but Crowley and Bee had been raised to be good leaders. They were raised with the belief that survival comes from cooperation, not needless fighting. Crowley is fine until he picks up more and more scents as they get closer — that’s when he begins to lose it.

The smell of blood picks up when the wind shifts in their direction, and intermingled with it is the sharp, acrid smell of fear and stress. More specifically, _Aziraphale’s_ fear and stress. He can hear a threatening growl from Hastur, behind him to his left. No one expected the two to grow as close as they had, but Hastur and Ligur had more or less adopted the new pack member. More often than not, Aziraphale could be found chatting with either of them while they chased Jaspur — their oldest son — around the property.

Crowley steadies himself, unwilling to let the anger and worry get to him. He picks the pace up to a run, spurred on the closer they get and ignoring the way his paws protest with the rockier terrain. He can see the front of the house now, and the outline of a man in a rocking chair with a person lying prone at his feet. Suddenly Crowley is no longer willing to wait, and he sprints ahead of the pack.

He’s almost to the house, only fifty feet away, when a shot is fired into the air.

Crowley stops, cold in his tracks and snarls, lips curled back to bare all his teeth while he growls and snaps, pacing with agitation and keeping an angry growl at the back of his throat. The pack catches up seconds later, Bee making his way to stand next to his brother.

“Now,” Gabriel says calmly, shotgun resting in his lap, “we wouldn’t want to be hasty, would we?” As if to emphasize the point further, he nudges the person at his feet with the shotgun — most definitely Aziraphale, Crowley notes.

Aziraphale gives a muffled yelp, struggling to stand. There’s blood matted into his hair, harsh scratches bleeding at the back of his neck and shoulders.

Crowley paces in front of the members of his pack and whines at Aziraphale, high-pitched and concerned, a plea for some kind of response to show that he’s okay.

Aziraphale doesn’t manage to make it to his feet, instead only rolling over to face his chosen pack. There’s a chorus of angry snarls and growls when they realize why he can’t stand.

Aziraphale is handcuffed, the steel digging into his wrists and causing them to bleed. His ankles are tied together with a thick length of rope, rigged to the handcuff chain and not long enough to allow him to stretch his legs more than a few inches in any direction. Attached to the chain that runs between his front legs is another, connected to a painfully tight leather muzzle secured with locks at every buckle. There’s a visible line of pink skin at the edges of the muzzle where he’s struggled, his skin painfully red and tear-stained.

Crowley sees red and wants to charge Gabriel then, rip his throat out before he can blink, but the rest of his pack has begun to emerge from the within and from behind the house. The few that are shifted are thin underneath their winter coats that have patchily grown in, eyes dull and noses obviously dry.

They look _terrible_ , and not ready for a fight. Once Crowley decides it’s a good enough chance that there won’t be a conflict — at least, not one involving the entire pack — he begins to shift out.

Bee takes notice immediately, shifting out himself. Crowley can look Gabriel over better now — he’s aging, probably well into his late fifties, with gray streaking through dark dark brown hair. He’s sporting a reddened cheek and a split lip. Aziraphale had _fought_ , he’d struggled to get away. There’s a swell of pride in Crowley’s chest, that even though he’s sure he was terrified, Aziraphale hadn’t just gone gently.

Crowley looks closer, finding a scar across Gabriel’s forehead, wide and menacing, and Crowley recalls the story his father used to tell him about how he _gave_ Gabriel that scar. Crowley is sure that the other Alpha has only done this to make a political statement with a bonus of making those under him even more frightened.

“ _Fine_ ,” Crowley grits out through his teeth, ignoring the sudden wave of fatigue that comes with the shift back. “Let’s chat. You give me _our_ pack member back, and I don’t do everyone a favor rip you to shreds and report it to the council that you deserved it.”

Gabriel laughs and stands up, offering Crowley a sleazy smile as he kicks Aziraphale _again_. It takes all of Crowley’s willpower not to go into a feral state of rage, and for a moment he can even feel a half-shift come on. He wills his teeth to grow back flat, nails to dull back down as he takes a step forward.

“This poor excuse for a packmate?” Gabriel asks, head tilting to indicate Aziraphale. “He’s barely worth it, don’t you think? You’ve had him what, almost two months? And he’s not even bred yet. What use has he been to you? He’d be better to use as a brood bitch, at least give you heirs.” Crowley snarls, teeth morphing back into dangerous points and eyes flashing a deadly glare.

Aziraphale looks away from him, head lowering in defeat. Hastur takes a few defensive steps forward, coming to Crowley’s other side, hackles standing straight up all the way down his back.

Crowley holds a hand out, urging patience to the rest of the pack. He’s only barely holding it together himself, and if a fight were to break out, he knows Gabriel’s pack would end up defending their leader out of fear. It would be a massacre of frightened people.

“If you want him so badly,” Crowley growls out, “why don’t we settle this the old fashioned way?” There’s a flash of anger through Gabriel’s stony gaze, and Crowley knows he’s trapped him now. Gabriel won’t back down from a challenge, not while his pack watches on.

Instead, he steps down the stairs of the porch while handing the shotgun off to a balding man lingering at the edge of the front door. Gabriel toes his cowboy boots off and removes his button down, abandoning them at the stairs.

“Fine,” the older Alpha growls, “have it your way. Winner gets ‘im.”

Crowley turns to Bee, giving him a nod.

Bee turns, gesturing to the pack to back up. They form a half-circle behind Crowley, offering growls and yips of support while giving the two Alphas a wide berth.

Gabriel turns, mouth upturned in a smug smile. “Come on! Come see why you don’t abandon me! Why you don’t abandon someone who keeps you safe!”

The members of South pack form their own half-circle behind Gabriel, most of them out of shift in favor of warm clothes that hang grimly off of small frames. It’s then that Crowley notices the only well-fed members of the pack that he can see are Gabriel and the Alpha he handed the shotgun off to.

Crowley shakes his hair, shifting back to prepare for the fight. Gabriel follows suit, looking murderous. Like this, he’s larger than Crowley — more muscular and grizzled, scars more obvious where fur has grown in white-gray.

“This fight is for the right to Aziraphale,” Bee grimly announces to the crowd, gaze shifting around as he stands between his brother and the rival pack leader.

Crowley can tell that it disgusts him to announce it — Aziraphale is his own person, he should be able to choose where he wanted to be himself and not be fought over like a scrap of meat.

Beelzebub continued, “There will be no interference. The match goes until submission or… until reasonable injury. Understood?” He looks to Crowley, who gives a nod and then to Gabriel, who only offers a vicious snarl. Bee curls his own lip up in a display of dominance before moving backwards to join the rest of the pack.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel bad for _another_ cliffhanger, but to curb boredom, the next chapter will be up on Saturday (4/4)! And another big thank you to Shay for helping out in beta'ing! Next chapter the tags are going to update (no spoilers, for now) so keep an eye out! Happy April!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The highly anticipated fight! I hope I didn't keep anyone too on edge!

There’s no buildup before the first move. Gabriel lunges forward, snapping and snarling with jaws agape and aiming for Crowley’s throat.

Crowley moves out of the way easily, darting to the side when Gabriel gets close.

Gabriel is larger than he is by a head, but Crowley is _agile_. He’d never fought anyone like this, not in any real situation — his mother had taught him to be cunning and wily in fights, outlast and outrun if need be. His father had taught him patience, how to bide his time with simple motions and let his opponent tire before he made any real offensive moves.

Crowley would not run from this fight.

He was going to win, come hell or high water.

Gabriel was experienced, and he was big, but Crowley was _passionate_. He had the full support of the pack behind him, howling and yipping to urge him on. After one particularly narrow dodge, he even heard Bee yell out encouragement.

He continues to dance around Gabriel, taking a kind of pleasure in the frustrated snarls he was getting out of him. There’s a moment’s pause, when Gabriel has to stop and take a breath, and Crowley makes his move.

With a quick step and a leap, he throws himself at Gabriel. He connects with Gabriel’s side, paws out in front of him to push the elder over onto his side and Crowley sinks his jaws into one of his front feet near the shoulder.

Gabriel lets out a howl of pain, kicking at Crowley with his back feet until Crowley releases and takes a few nimble steps to the side, lunging again at Gabriel’s throat. He manages to move faster than Crowley, rolling out of the way.

Crowley almost makes the recovery, balance perfect, but a sharp whine diverts his attention. The balding man still on the porch, who must be Gabriel’s second, had wrenched Aziraphale up by the straps of the muzzle to force him to watch the fight. Kind, soft-spoken _Aziraphale_ , who hated fighting and pack politics, who just wanted everyone to get along because the last thing he wanted was to see anyone hurt. Not a sign of Omega "weakness", but one of _strength_.

Crowley is distracted in the moment, and it’s all Gabriel needs to seize Crowley by the scruff of his neck and slam him into the ground with a quiet yelp.

Crowley’s belly-up, fighting tooth and claw to push Gabriel off of him. It nearly works, but then Gabriel lets go of his scruff and goes straight for his exposed chest, teeth sinking in with a low growl. Crowley _screams_ in pain, sounding like a wounded pup, thrashing underneath Gabriel’s bulk.

He twists his back, kicking his hind legs to try and kick Gabriel’s exposed flank. It’s a futile attempt, only angering the larger Alpha who in turn shakes his head, ripping deep wounds into Crowley’s flesh.

In a moment of luck, the thrashing allows enough offput balance for a well-placed wriggle and kick to heave Gabriel to the side, but not without consequence. Gabriel manages a powerful snap to Crowley’s front leg, and he can feel something shift just as the white-hot pain hits him.

Gabriel backs off, allowing him to rise to his feet again only to body check him back into the ground. He makes a move for Crowley’s throat again but doesn’t prepare for the vicious snapping of jaws he’s met with.

Crowley rolls back up, rearing onto his hind legs to go back on the offensive. His paws connect with Gabriel’s front shoulders, and Crowley manages to grab hold of his ear and _pulls_ , reveling in the sharp cry of pain Gabriel lets slip. Crowley heaves his weight forward, ignoring the pressure on his injured leg, and makes the calculated decision to try and roll Gabriel over to finish the fight once and for all. He repositions his back legs, awkwardly managing a few small steps until he gets to the right angle to _push_ , and topples Gabriel over.

Unfortunately, Crowley doesn’t think far ahead enough to realize it was just as Gabriel had wanted. Before Crowley can realize it, Gabriel has gotten his back paws underneath Crowley’s belly.

With a powerful stroke and push, his claws rake down past Crowley’s ribs and towards his hips as Gabriel flips them again. He has Crowley on his side, facing Bee and his pack, who pace and snarl. In this moment there’s panic that flashes through his mind, that he will die in his first and only fight that matters — Gabriel wouldn’t let him submit, nor would Crowley give him the satisfaction, and he’d not let Crowley just walk away.

Gabriel lets out a short, second-long howl of triumph and sinks his teeth into the edge of Crowley’s throat. Crowley howls in pain, back legs frantically scrabbling for purchase, some kind of leverage to try and get free. Gabriel shakes him violently, snarling, and the pain is too much. Crowley goes limp, whimpers and cries loud against the new silence.

With a growl, Gabriel lifts his upper body off the ground, spinning around to face Aziraphale. Crowley can hardly see him, the way he’s positioned, but he can hear sharp, muffled cries and the rattling of handcuffs. Gabriel turns, then, letting Crowley’s head loll backwards. Aziraphale is struggling, tears coming down his reddened cheeks. He manages to stand, struggling to take rushed steps forward before he’s tackled him and pinned to the ground by Gabriel’s second. Aziraphale hits hard, crying out in pain, and Crowley sees red.

The enemy alpha Alpha had made a mistake — he had been distracted thinking he had already won. Crowley wasn’t dead yet, and he takes advantage of the Alpha’s attention being elsewhere.

Crowley twists, managing to get a majority of his throat free from Gabriel’s jaw. He snaps his head to the side, managing to grab ahold of Gabriel’s cheek in his teeth. It takes the elder by surprise, causing him to open his mouth and release Crowley entirely.

Seizing the opportunity, Crowley takes the opportunity to grab hold tighter, Gabriel quickly stepping backwards and shaking his head to dislodge Crowley. It doesn’t work, Crowley hanging on and twisting until Gabriel throws himself to the side to get away — losing a part of his cheek to the action. Crowley’s pack rejoices with renewed energy, urging him on.

In an instant, fueled by adrenaline and rage, he leaps at Gabriel, landing square on his back before he can move to dodge. Crowley sinks his teeth into the crest of Gabriel’s neck, claws sinking into the flesh of his shoulders.

Gabriel lets out a cry of pain, shaking and trying to turn his head to manage a snap at Crowley. When it doesn’t work, only driving Crowley to hang on tighter, he rolls onto the ground overtop the larger Alpha. By some miracle, Crowley fights through the instinct telling him to let go, and instead twists his grip around to seize Gabriel by the throat, canines puncturing a hole into the underside of his jaw.

Crowley pins him down after getting hold of his throat, wrestling him to the ground and onto his side. He puts two massive paws on top of Gabriel’s chest, ignoring the scream of pain that goes shooting up his leg. Crowley snarls something vicious, a growl low in his throat as he stares down into Gabriel’s eyes.

_It’s over,_ he conveys to him, _you’ve lost._ Crowley would rather not kill him, if he’s being honest — he’d rather leave him as an example of what happens to those who mess with Crowley’s family. When Gabriel doesn’t submit, Crowley’s grip tightens around his windpipe.

Gabriel is far too much a coward to want to die. There is a twitching in his ears, even the damaged one — Crowley notices that he nearly tore it off in his previous attack — and Gabriel shifts to go belly-up.

The howls reach a cacophonous peak as Gabriel tucks his tail between his legs, whining. Crowley keeps him pinned while Bee sprints to where they are, stark still.

“Crowley of the North pack has won the challenge!” Bee yells victoriously, one hand raised. Crowley takes the signal to let Gabriel up, snarling at him as he backs away.

Gabriel pulls himself up on shaky legs and limps his way back to his side, head low and glare venomous.

“This means that Aziraphale is to be released at once.”

Crowley’s eyes follow a woman as she hurries over to Aziraphale, clad only in a tee shirt and shorts. She makes quick work of the locks and cuffs, carefully removing the muzzle and throwing it to the side as if it had burnt her.

Aziraphale shakes his head a few times, thanking the woman, looking worse for wear but okay. Crowley shifts out, laying on the ground once he’s back to two legs

Bee bends down, swinging his uninjured arm over his shoulder. Crowley winces from the movement, which agitates the still-bleeding wounds down his abdomen. He holds a hand up, signalling for attention as Aziraphale hurries over, pressing himself into Crowley’s other side to help keep him upright.

The South pack members turn their eyes to him, intent on listening. Crowley clears his throat, wincing at the punctures and gashes. He’s thankful that Gabriel never managed to get a hold of him near his jugular, and Crowley thanks a higher power for his dense coat.

“I’ve been made aware of your situation,” Crowley tells the crowd, voice deceivingly strong despite his weakness and fatigue, “I know how you’re going hungry and freezing. I know how your supposed leader treats you.” A hushed commotion goes over the crowd, members looking at each other.

Crowley catches Bee giving him a sideways glance. Crowley nods, a silent _let me do this_ before continuing. “I know you’re scared about what you can do. It’s why I extend an invitation to you. I welcome anyone who wants to dissent with open arms.” This time, a louder convergence of voices bubbles up.

“Why would we dissent?” a woman yells from one side, a set of children clinging to her leg. They’re as underfed as the rest, clad in rags. “Why would we leave our home?”

“Because your children are suffering,” Crowley says gravely, heart panging for the children at the woman’s feet. “Because you’d be led to starvation while your leader takes what he wants and leaves you with next nothing.”

Crowley gestures widely behind him, to his own pack. “None of us starve! We’re not freezing to death, there’s plenty to go around! We act as a group, as a _family_ , not as a dictatorship!”

The wolves behind him nod in agreement, a few pacing as if to show off their own wellbeing. Crowley can tell with his words, the crowd is already beginning to change its tune. Crowley pushes off of Bee in favor to stand on his own, an arm wrapped around his own middle.

It’s a display of strength when he reaches down to link his hand with Bee. “You will have a home with us. A place to raise a family—”

“And a place where Omegas are not treated as commodities or burdens,” Aziraphale chimes in strongly, head raised high. Crowley smiles back at him, swelling with pride. Aziraphale looks up at him and smiles despite the welts on his face from the muzzle.

Quickly, a few of the already-shifted members of the South pack move to intermingle with Crowley’s own. Gabriel snarls at them as they go, but Crowley can only smile when he sees a few of the children hurry out with bags in their arms.

They hand them off to parents while they shimmy their outer layers to be down to shiftclothes, who hang the bags around their necks as they themselves shift in favor to lift the pups by the scruff and make their way to join the other side.

By the time they’ve all moved, only a handful of wolves stay with Gabriel. He hasn’t even shifted out yet, instead glaring at Crowley. The two glare tensely at each other before Gabriel secedes, head bowed.

Crowley nods, and with it turns to address his family — now increased by nearly double.

“Let’s go home,” he says, turning to Aziraphale. They set out, and Crowley makes it to the line of trees before he collapses to his knees. Aziraphale sucks in a breath, dropping to his knees next to him. Crowley pants, hissing a pained exhale through his teeth. The pack has stopped, forming a protective circle around their own.

“I’ll carry you,” Aziraphale says gently, taking a few steps back to shift. Crowley is too weak to protest, insisting that he must be exhausted too, but can only watch as Aziraphale comes back up to him, nudging him with his nose.

Bee lifts Crowley up, setting him securely on Aziraphale’s broad back. The Alpha pushes his hands into Aziraphale’s warm fur, carefully taking a fistfull in each hand to hang on. He whimpers as it sends shockwaves of pain up to his injured shoulder, but keeps a tight grip. Bee shifts back, silver fur gleaming in the afternoon sun, and they’re off again.

They keep a steady lope, enough that it doesn’t jostle Crowley too much. Bee stays at Aziraphale’s side, pushing his nose against Crowley’s good shoulder every few minutes to keep him awake. Crowley protests with a grumble each time, but manages to stay awake.

“I’m so glad you’re safe,” he mutters into Aziraphale at one point, head resting against the dense fur at his crest. “I was so worried, Aziraphale. I was so scared.”

Aziraphale whines back, and the sound soothes Crowley. He knows Aziraphale has him, just as he has Aziraphale. Crowley only succumbs to the coming darkness when they reach sight of the cabin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So while that was predictable, I really hope everyone enjoyed Gabriel getting what was due! And our regularly-scheduled update will be one Wednesday, and then it's back to weekly! I hope everyone's still doing well with quarantine and keeping healthy!


	8. Chapter 8

Bee and Aziraphale get Crowley inside as the rest of the pack shifts, yelling for Asmodeus to hurry as they come into the kitchen. They lay Crowley out on the kitchen table, Asmodeus hurrying down the stairs with his box of supplies just as a few people begin to filter into the house. He shoos away the few pack members peeking into the room sans Aziraphale and Bee, citing that the familiar scents nearby will keep Crowley calm. At one point, Bee leaves to address the pack and all of the new people that dissented, all of them frightened and wary. Aziraphale rests his head on the table, his hand clutching Crowley’s on his uninjured arm’s side.

“Will he be alright?” Aziraphale asks after nearly two hours of work, just as Asmodeus begins putting the bandages onto Crowley’s chest and abdomen after cleaning and stitching the wounds up. Crowley’s face is flushed, sweat plastering a few strands of hair to his face. He hasn’t woken the entire time he’s been inside, only managing a few pained moans when Asmodeus did something particularly painful when it needed to be done. Each time, Aziraphale would gently soothe him and brush the sweat-plastered strands of hair away from his feverish forehead.

“Yes,” he responds after a brief moment of hesitation, gaze not wavering from his work. “He’s feverish from the trauma of it, it’ll get worse if these get infected — I have enough for him to get a few shots of antibiotics, but it will be a few days before we can get any more from town. We’ll need to keep an eye on him and if it gets worse, we’ll take him to the emergency room.” Asmodeus pauses to offer a quick, eyebrow-raised (knowing) look. “I suspect you won’t be going far until he’s well.” Aziraphale nods, lifting his other hand to properly cradle Crowley’s hand.

“I would rather—” Aziraphale cuts himself off, unwilling to jinx himself with any more bad luck. After a moment of mulling his words over, he speaks again. “Divine intervention couldn’t get me to leave him, at this point.” Asmodeus snorts, shaking his head and muttering as he continues to wrap bandages.

It’s another hour before Crowley’s entirely patched up, more bandage than skin across his upper body. Asmodeus leaves to prepare Crowley’s room, leaving the two alone. It’s then the Alpha begins to rouse, turning his head towards Aziraphale with a weary gaze.

“Zir’phale?” he asks, eyes refusing to focus. Aziraphale reaches over to brush an unruly curl from Crowley’s face, nodding while tears fill his eyes.

“Yeah,” Aziraphale responds, smiling. “Yes, Crowley, it’s me.” Crowley manages a weak smile, only the corners of his lips turning up, but genuine nonetheless. “How do you feel?” Crowley snorts, rolling his golden eyes.

“Like I got put through a woodchipper,” Crowley snarks with a ragged breath, proceeding to add, “and then got rolled on by a bull moose.” Aziraphale chuckles, shaking his head. Crowley tilts his head a little, closing his eyes in thought. “Or maybe a bison. Are bison heavier than bull moose, angel?”

“I can’t believe you,” he says, exasperated but amused. Crowley slowly lifts the hand that Aziraphale is holding, letting go in favor to cup the Omega’s cheek, thumb wiping away a stray tear. Aziraphale wasn’t sure when he started crying instead of being teary, but it does make him feel just a bit better. Aziraphale lifts his hand to rest it over Crowley’s, leaning into the touch. “I was so worried, Anthony.”

“Hate it when you call me that,” he complains, furrowing his eyebrows while he pouts. Aziraphale lets out another set of watery chuckles, tilting his head to kiss Crowley’s wrist. “Told you when we met—”

“That no one called you Anthony,” Aziraphale finishes. “I’m just happy you’re _alive_ , Crowley. I was so scared when you slumped over once we got home. I was so afraid that I’d never see you again.” Crowley makes a strangled series of noises, face flushing — this time it’s not from the fever.

“Couldn’t leave you behind like that,” Crowley responds. He lets out a shaky inhale, moving his hand away from Aziraphale’s face in favor to brace it behind him. He pushes himself up with a pained gasp, ignoring Aziraphale’s protests. Once he gets comfortable, he leans over to get closer to Aziraphale. He rests his forehead against Aziraphale’s, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. One of Aziraphale’s hands comes around Crowley to rest against the back of his neck, thumb rubbing back and forth against the carefully-wrapped bandages. He holds his ( _fearless, brave, if a bit brash)_ leader close, closing his own eyes, and for a moment they just breathe together. They bask in each others’ presence, grateful for the other to be alive.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale says after a moment, voice barely above a whisper. His nose brushes against Crowley’s, and a blush rises to dust across Aziraphale’s cheeks. “I— I think I like you. More than, well, you know—”

“I love you too, Aziraphale,” Crowley interrupts breathily, lips twitching up into a smile. One of his hands moves back to cup Aziraphale’s cheek, his thumb brushing tenderly against his cheekbone. “I want— I want to be with you, Aziraphale, and I know this isn’t— it’s not very _official_ , but I never want to be without you. I want to love you, and cherish you every day for the rest of our lives — er, if you’ll have me.” Aziraphale chokes out a little sound before nodding his head, moving his hand to Crowley’s jaw.

“I have been waiting for you to ask me,” he manages, opening his eyes to look at Crowley. Crowley’s eyes are open, and in them Aziraphale only sees love and admiration. “I’ve been waiting for your little courting ritual to get to the asking out point.” Crowley snorts, closing his eyes and leaning forward a fraction of an inch before he pulls back again. His eyes flare open, suddenly reflecting anxiety.

“Can— can I kiss you?” he asks, stumbling over his words, “I— I don’t want to go too fast and dive in too deep, I just—” Aziraphale only responds by closing the distance between them, pulling Crowley in and pressing their lips together. Crowley sighs into the kiss, shoulders relaxing. His good arm moves to come around Aziraphale’s shoulders, weakly tugging him closer. Crowley is the one who pulls away, lips partially open with a smile. Aziraphale huffs out a laugh.

“I love you,” Aziraphale repeats. He hates that it took him this long to say it.

“Finally you two stopped dancing around each other,” Bee’s voice chimes from behind them. Crowley moves away in favor to look at his sibling, a half-smirk gracing his face. Bee’s arms are crossed while he leans against the doorframe. “Ligur owes me ten bucks.” Crowley snorts, rolling his eyes. With Aziraphale’s help he manages to move his legs to dangle off the table, and with a bit more he brings himself up into a wobbly stand. Bee takes the moment to cross the room, pulling Crowley into a tight hug. Crowley claps him on the shoulder with his good hand, visibly relaxing further.

“Thought I was going to let you lead all on your own that easy?” Crowley asks into his brother’s hair. Bee huffs.

“I didn’t know what to expect. I was worried for a while there,” he replies, voice just a bit raw with worry. “I’m glad you’re alive. I’m glad we got Aziraphale back, and I’m glad you two idiots aren’t dancing around each other like a pair of birds.” Aziraphale manages a laugh, still holding Crowley’s hand.

“Let’s get him to bed,” he offers, “The last thing he needs is to be putting any more strain on his body.” Bee agrees immediately with a hum, taking Crowley’s good arm around his shoulders to offer some support. They emerge from the kitchen, and the few pack members milling about the living room offer a few cheers when they see their victorious leader. Crowley straightens, smiling and nodding to his family. The trio disappear down the hallway and Crowley deflates with a wince, out of breath.

“We’ll take him to my room,” Aziraphale states, “That way he doesn’t have to deal with stairs.”

“Good plan,” Bee says, and they turn for Aziraphale’s bedroom. They get him settled quickly, and within minutes he’s asleep. Bee takes his leave after a few minutes, citing that he needs to address more of the concerns of the new pack members. Aziraphale nods and ensures that he’ll stay with Crowley to take care of him. Bee nods and walks out of the room, shutting the door behind him. Aziraphale crawls into his bed, sidling up close to Crowley. He pulls the Alpha closer to him, his bright red curls spilling down Aziraphale’s shoulder as he positions Crowley’s head onto his chest. When he closes his eyes he falls into a dreamless sleep, content with Crowley’s reassuring weight next to him and the even sounds of his breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The much-deserved fluff! And more to come! As much as I loved the angst, this was so much fun to write! And with our quarantine being extended, everyone deserves it! We'll be back to regularly-scheduled posting on Wednesdays, thanks for reading!


	9. Chapter 9

That week passes remarkably quickly, Aziraphale splitting his time between catching up with his old (and now new again) packmates and taking care of Crowley while he’s resting in bed. The Alpha hates being laid up, antsy and prone to whining about his sedentary state. After the third day he’s more lucid after being weaned from the ridiculous doses of pain medication, asking for things to keep him busy. Asmodeus humors him a bit, letting him go out and mingle once he’s steady on his feet. Of course, the pack visits him when he’s not asleep or having his bandages changed, often coming to keep him company and bringing him snacks.

“Trying to fatten me up?” he asks Belia on the evening of the fifth day. She holds up a grease-stained paper bag, iconic golden arches on the side with a quirked eyebrow. “I suppose I can humor your humble offering.” She rolls her eyes, walking across the room to plop down in the soft beanbag chair that had been put at the bedside for visitors to use if they wanted. She pulls out a little box-carton, passing it over to Aziraphale.

“It’s an apple pie!” she says cheerily, taking a sip of her smoothie as she crosses her legs, “I didn’t want to leave you out when we went into town for groceries and medicine.” She takes out more food from the bag, sliding a wrapped fish sandwich to Crowley. Aziraphale helps him sit up, taking it slow so as to not tug on any stitches.

“You’re a dear,” Crowley tells her, eagerly unwrapping the sandwich. “Anything good while you were in town?” Belia shrugs, kicking her feet up while popping fries into her mouth.

“Not really anything new. Everyone’s heard about your little spat,” she replies, “and there’s supposed to be a council meeting about it.” Crowley curses, throwing his head back with a huff.

“S’pose we’ll have to go to that,” he grumbles between bites. Aziraphale is suddenly very lost as they chit-chat about the details.

“Council meeting?” he finally gets up the nerve to ask, taking a bite of the warm pastry. He hums, surprised at how good it is. He’s never been a fan of fast food, but maybe he’d be sticking with this item.

“Just a formality,” Belia replies, waving it off. She looks behind Crowley to Aziraphale, suddenly understanding his lack of knowledge. “Right, you’ll not know what it’s all about. The pack leaders in the area always meet once every month or two to discuss politics in their territories, but they’re calling this meeting because of the tension.” She turns her gaze to Crowley. “And they’re looking at ruling in your favor.”

“What’s there to rule?” Aziraphale asks, looking to Crowley for an answer.

“‘S nothing, angel, it’s politics,” he soothes, before adding “you can come along if you’d like.”

“I think I’d like that,” he responds. There’s a pause. “Would… Gabriel be there?” Crowley growls, looking murderous despite a spot of tartar sauce at the corner of his mouth.

“If he knows what’s _good for him_ — _”_

“He shouldn’t be,” Belia interrupts, “according to Asmodeus. He said they wouldn’t risk a fight again.” That seems to settle Crowley, who grumbles and finishes his sandwich. Aziraphale can’t help but be a little anxious, suddenly losing his appetite. Crowley takes notice, resting a hand on his knee.

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” Crowley says softly, “I’m sure Belia would organize a game night.” Belia nods sagely, seemingly wise despite being so young. Aziraphale doesn’t think he’ll ever be over the fact she’s just _seventeen_ , with how she can hold a conversation with him when the topic is old literature.

“But no Monopoly,” she says sternly, “we don’t play Monopoly anymore. Anything else is alright!” Crowley nods in agreement, looking equally as serious. Aziraphale wants to ask, but it seems like it would be a long story with a lot of inside jokes. Instead, he concedes to finish the pastry.

“So, this meeting,” he starts warily, “what would it be about?” Crowley shrugs, popping a fry in his mouth.

“Reestablishing order,” he starts, “making sure I’m not gunning for some kind of turf war, asking about what’s going on with the new influx of people here.” Aziraphale wrinkles his nose, much to Belia’s amusement. “It’s really just all politics and we’re due for a meeting anyway.”

“I just—”

“Gabriel never let you know what was going on,” Belia offers, suddenly connecting the dots. Aziraphale nods, suddenly feeling far too out of place for the conversation. She doesn’t look happy about the realization. “I’m sure you can tag along, and you’ll get to meet Crowley’s uncle and his wife if she decides to tag along.” Crowley snorts.

“She always comes along, it’s to keep him out of trouble,” he replies. He turns back to Aziraphale with a smile. “You wanna come along?”

“As long as you’re sure it would be okay. With me being—”

“That doesn’t matter,” Belia says quickly, “that’s not how things work here, it’s not how things work in general because _we’re_ not… like that.” Crowley nods, finishing off the last bite of his sandwich before crumpling the wrapper to toss at Belia. She catches it at the last second, sticking her tongue out at him before standing up with the bag and collecting the few empty water bottles on the nightstand and the carton from Aziraphale’s apple pie before waving and leaving the room.

Crowley sighs and leans back against the pillows, one hand resting on his chest. He turns his head to look at Aziraphale, whose frowning ever so slightly. “Angel? What’s wrong?” He jumps, obviously startled out of his train of thought.

“Oh, it’s— well, I was just— I don’t know,” he stutters out with a dejected sigh, “I guess— I know that it’s safe here, and I know everyone here now, but I still feel like I should be on edge.” Crowley hums, moving his free hand to find Aziraphale’s.

“That makes sense,” he replies, rolling onto his side with a sharp inhale. He’s bad about moving around too much with his stitches still relatively new — but that’s why Aziraphale stays with him. Right, yeah, that’s why he’s sticking around so much, not that he’s _really_ attached. Azirpahale smiles, bringing Crowley’s hand up to flutter a kiss across his knuckles.

Okay, so maybe Aziraphale does love him, and it definitely doesn’t make his stomach flip like he’s a teenager, and he definitely didn’t _squeak_ when Aziraphale did it.

“Do you think it’s alright if I come along, whenever this is?” Aziraphale asks. Crowley snorts, rolling his eyes.

“‘Course, angel,” he replies instantly, trying to sound cool and confident, “it’d be great to have you tag along. ‘M sure uncle Lu would love to meet you, and you haven’t been to town yet. It’ll be great.” Crowley shifts again to lay flat again, closing his eyes. “Now, lay down with me. It’s a good time for a nap.”

Aziraphale chuckles, the sound like music to Crowley’s ears, and tugs the comforter over his legs as he snuggles close to Crowley.

“Don’t mind if I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter nine! The next few chapters are going to, admittedly, be very fluffy and very worldbuild-y because there's been a whole lotta angst and action and everyone deserves some R&R. I hope everyone's staying healthy and take care of yourselves!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late chapter! I had 3 projects all due on the same day and I needed a breather after, but here's the next chapter!

Aziraphale wakes up first, rolling over to check the alarm clock on the nightstand. He’s been asleep a few hours and he lets out a relieved sigh — he hates sleeping the entire day away (whereas Crowley’s favorite kind of weekend is one spent in bed) when there’s so much to do around the house.

He carefully gets out of bed, making sure not to rouse Crowley, and pads out of his room and out into the hall. It’s late in the afternoon, the sun setting low on the horizon with the winter chill of the evening coming in. There’s the smell of food cooking in the kitchen, with laughter and muffled conversation drifting through the house. Aziraphale emerges from the dimly lit hall and yawns, turning to go into the kitchen.

It’s Ligur that’s cooking, with Michael looking over his shoulder while he narrates what he’s doing. Aziraphale has spoken with his old-and-new-again packmates seldom since they’ve come to stay, as he’s been busy seeing to Crowley while he’s down for recovery. Uriel had dropped in briefly to their room the first day that Crowley was lucid, offering her thanks to him timidly. Crowley had been awkward at first, but had managed to smooth her frayed nerves and offered to take her into town once he was well when she’d mentioned having little that she’d brought with her. After she left, Aziraphale had turned to Crowley with adoration.

“Do _not_ look at me like that,” Crowley had said with a groan, rolling his eyes. Aziraphale hadn’t pressed it, just kissing Crowley’s cheek, before he’d gone back to reading.

Now, though, watching Michael trying to learn to cook something that didn’t come exclusively from a can — looking the calmest and least tense as Aziraphale’s ever seen her — it’s something almost _heartwarming_ , for lack of a better word. She laughs at a joke Ligur makes, and she doesn't flinch away when he nudges her with his shoulder. Aziraphale just watches for a while, smiling while the two mutter back and forth before he clears his throat to let them know of his presence.

Ligur turns first, nodding in greeting. “Morning, sunshine. Sleep well?”

“As well as one can with someone who hogs the blankets,” Aziraphale quips back. Ligur snorts.

“Sounds about right!” He directs the comment into the living room, eliciting a _hey!_ from Hastur. Michael seems to draw back slightly with the yelling, but Aziraphale crosses the room to take her hands.

“Are you settling in alright?” he asks, rubbing back and forth with his thumbs over the tops of her hands. Michael is older than him by nearly ten years, but he’s always had a penchant for soothing.

“Yes, everyone’s been wonderful since we’ve gotten here,” she replies, “and Ligur’s teaching me how to make chilli!”

“First time someone’s been excited about my cooking in a while,” Ligur retorts with a roll of his eyes, turning back to the pot. Aziraphale lets out a dramatic sigh, looking over Michael’s shoulder.

“I resent that,” he teases, “I always enjoy your cooking.” Ligur _hmphs_ and shoos them both out of the kitchen and into the living room to chat while he finishes cooking, promising Michael that he’d walk her through the rest of the instructions later.

Aziraphale takes a seat on the couch, Michael still standing anxiously until he raises an eyebrow and takes her hand to pull her down next to him. Bee is sitting in the loveseat across the room, Dagon leaned against them dozing while Hastur rubs her feet. She’s been exhausted the past few days, run down more than ever and it has everyone on edge to some extent, no one more than Bee. Michael looks up from where she picks at her nails anxiously, a nervous smile bubbling up.

“Are you hoping for a boy or a girl?” she asks Bee hesitantly, almost afraid of the response. Azirpahale’s not surprised — Michael had frequently bore the brunt of Gabriel’s temper, and she was still walking on eggshells around Crowley and Bee as the leaders of the pack.

“Either,” Bee replies quietly, one hand brushing through Dagon’s hair while she sleeps, “just so long as they’re healthy.” Michael nods, visibly relaxing when anger doesn’t come.

“You must be excited,” she continues, pressing a little further, “and your twins must be, too, to have a sibling coming.” Bee hums in agreeance just as Dagon startles herself awake with a flinch, sitting up. It causes everyone else to jump a bit too, the sudden flurry of movement disrupting the quiet of the room.

“Sorry,” Dagon says sheepishly as she rubs at her eyes, “just… a weird dream.” Hastur laughs, carefully maneuvering her legs off of his lap for him to stand and go to the kitchen. Dagon curls further into Bee, her head on her mate’s shoulder.

“Maybe we should get you to bed,” Bee offers, pressing a kiss to Dagon’s temple, “let you rest. I’ll bring you a bowl of dinner.” Dagon nods and rubs at her eyes, standing and stretching before waving a goodbye to Michael and Aziraphale as she turns to go down the hall. Bee follows behind, and Aziraphale can’t help but acknowledge the pang of worry that gnaws at his stomach. Michael must notice with the way she rests a hand on top of his, offering a small smile.

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Michael reasons, “just some fatigue — you know how it is, and if there is something wrong I’m sure Asmodeus can handle it.”

“Yes, of course,” Aziraphale says, perishing the thought. It’s then that Hastur calls from the kitchen that dinner’s ready, and any worry that nags is forgotten as everyone gathers for dinner.

Aziraphale is in the space between being asleep and being awake late that night when the bed shifts and Crowley gets up, hushed voices arguing in the dark. Aziraphale can make one out to be Asmodeus, telling Crowley to get back into bed, and the other he thinks may be Ligur. It seems that it won’t be resolved any time soon, so Aziraphale rolls over to face the source of the commotion.

Crowley is trying to tug on a flannel shirt while wincing in pain from the way the movement pulls at his stitches. Aziraphale was right — it _is_ Ligur in the room, who has one hand securely wrapped in the arm of the shirt to prevent Crowley from getting it on while Asmodeus looks stern, speaking quietly as to try not to wake Aziraphale.

“What’s going on?” Aziraphale finally interrupts, startling the trio who all look like deer stuck in the headlights. “I’m waiting for a response, if it’s bad I can handle it.” They all exchange a look before any of them decide to speak.

“Bee’s taken Dagon to the hospital,” Ligur finally states, “she— there was something wrong. Crowley is trying to run off to follow _even though he can’t get dressed._ ”

“Fuck off,” he spits back, a growl coming up from the back of his throat. “I’m going—”

“You’re in no condition to drive, let alone make it on foot,” Asmodeus interrupts, “and you have Aziraphale here to take care of you while you’re supposed to be _resting_.” Aziraphale should probably take offense to being referred to as a caretaker, but he’s had enough conversations with the retired doctor to know that Asmodeus is nothing if not completely accepting — he just knows how to get into Crowley’s head and make him see sense.

“I can rest _later_ ,” Crowley snarls back, trying to pull the shirt free from Ligur’s grasp. “I need to be there—”

“Dearest,” Aziraphale finally says, reaching out for Crowley’s hand, “there’s nothing you can do. It’s best to wait here for when they come home, and we can be there then. You’re in no shape to go out after them.” Aziraphale squeezes his hand. “Please, come back to bed?” He hesitates and for a moment, Aziraphale isn't sure if he’ll stay or go. But Crowley deflates, shrugging the shirt off his shoulders and thrusting it to Ligur’s chest.

“Fine,” he grumbles, “but you make sure someone lets me know the _instant_ they get back.” He looks between Ligur and Asmodeus. “I mean it, I want to know.”

“We’ll let you know,” Ligur replies, taking the shirt and setting it on Crowley’s dresser as he leaves the room. Crowley deflates, the Alpha posturing fading away until he looks very tired and incredibly anxious. Asmodeus tugs him into a hug, resting his chin on Crowley’s head. Aziraphale frequently forgets that he could be incredibly imposing, with his tall stature and broad shoulders, mostly because he’s never been anything near aggressive. Aziraphale would forget him to be an Alpha if not for his size.

“I promise I’ll come get you,” Asmodeus says into Crowley’s sleep-mussed hair, “you need your rest too, son.” Asmodeus pulls away, patting Crowley on the shoulder before leaving the room. Crowley crawls back into bed, laying against Aziraphale’s shoulder and looking defeated. Aziraphale brushes his fingers through Crowley’s hair, humming as he fights to stay awake. He hopes Crowley isn't too far behind him when he finally dozes off.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for this chapter for nondescriptive mentions of pregnancy loss (feel free to yell at me in the comments).

A full day passes before Dagon and Bee return back home, a hospital blanket wrapped around Dagon’s shoulders and held in her fists like a lifeline. Crowley is the first to greet them at the door, going in to hug Dagon when Bee gets in front of her and snarls. Crowley growls back, but Dagon ignores both in favor to shoulder her way past her mate and into Crowley’s embrace. He holds her there for a moment, his chin resting on top of her head. They don’t say anything, but when Dagon pulls away, he offers to escort her back to her and Bee’s room.

It was the morning after Aziraphale had been awoken from the quarrel that he found out how close Dagon and Crowley were, more than he’d already noticed. Since Dagon had announced her pregnancy, Crowley had been especially protective over her -- nothing out of the ordinary for him, as far as Aziraphale knew. Crowley loved all of his packmates like family, but Vespar had informed him over lunch about how close he and Dagon are.

“She may be Bee’s mate, but she’s been like Crowley’s little sister for as long as she’s been here,” she told him, gesturing in the air with her spoon. “Bee was the one who found her when she came seeking sanctuary and Crowley, well, he was just Crowley. They clicked. It's no wonder he’s so worried about her.” She sends Aziraphale a sympathetic look across the table. Aziraphale just nods, picking at the food on his plate.

Admittedly, Crowley has been a bear since getting the news. Aziraphale is glad that Dagon is back and healthy, but his heart aches at the thought of what could have happened — the explicit details still undisclosed to the rest of the pack, including him.

Crowley is the one who eventually tells Aziraphale once getting Dagon settled in her and Bee’s shared room. He comes back to Aziraphale’s — the room they’ve been sharing, rather — and collapses onto the bed. He’s exhausted, and Aziraphale knows from how restless he’s been with being unable to sleep.

“How’s she doing?” Aziraphale asks after a moment, hesitant to breach the topic. Crowley lets out a sigh and scoots close to Aziraphale until his head is in Omega's lap, his eyes closing. Aziraphale takes it as an invitation to run his hands through the curls, carefully detangling as he waits for Crowley to be ready to speak.

“As well as you can expect,” he responds, “she… the doctors said there wasn't anyone to blame. That there’s some problem internally. They ran some tests, results should be back later this week. They made an appointment.” Aziraphale notices the way Crowley’s fist clenches in the comforter, the slight shake in his voice telling plenty. Aziraphale moves his other hand to Crowley’s shoulder, squeezing tight enough to ground him.

“You know there’s nothing anyone could have done.” Aziraphale rubs back and forth down Crowley’s shoulder to the middle of his back, careful to avoid the spots still healing. “What we can do now is be there for her, make sure she’s doing well.” Crowley nods, a sniffle escaping despite his best efforts.

“I hate to see her hurting,” he mutters, “she’s been through _enough_ as it is, why can't the universe let her have everything she wants?”

“It’s not fair,” Aziraphale agrees with a nod, “but she still has Bee, and Rory and Adaira, and all the rest of us. She has a family who loves her.” He pauses, trying to find further words of comfort. “My mother used to say in her diaries that God has a plan for everyone.”

“I don’t believe in God,” Crowley mutters, rolling over to face away from Aziraphale. “I haven’t, not for a long time. I hope that doesn’t bother you.”

“Of course not, love,” Aziraphale replies quickly, “you’re allowed to think differently from me. Just…” He takes a deep breath. He’s safe here, he has to remind himself, he’s not in danger if he doesn’t agree. “Just as I am allowed to think differently from you.” Crowley rolls back over, looking up at Aziraphale’s face above him with a smile.

“Anyone told you you’re too smart for your own good?” he teases, reaching up to cup the Omega’s cheek with one of his hands.

“Frequently, before I came here.” Aziraphale leans down to press a quick peck to Crowley’s lips, leaving him smiling. This tentative courtship between them is still new, brought upon by a life-and-death situation and the realization that they _could_ give it a try, with things changing so rapidly.

“Is it too early for a nap?” Crowley ponders aloud, shifting around to get under the covers. Aziraphale laughs, rolling his eyes.

“I will never get over how much you sleep,” Aziraphale teases, “but it’s never too early for a nap.” Crowley gives him a toothy smile before reaching a hand out to grab one of Aziraphale’s to tug him down.

“Stay for a while?” he asks, half-curling around Aziraphale.

“For a while,” Aziraphale concedes, reclining back in the mound of pillows. He hums and picks up the book he’s begun reading from the bedside table, stroking through Crowley’s hair while he reads. Soon enough, Crowley is drooling on the pillow and Aziraphale has finished the book.

Once he’s sure that Crowley will stay asleep if he leaves, Aziraphale carefully stands and creeps out of the room to go down the hall. Dagon and Bee’s door is open a crack and he knocks softly before coming in, closing it fully behind him as he surveys the room.

Dagon is curled up in a ball around a hot water bottle near the center of the bed, Bee laying shifted next to her. She has one hand fisted tightly in her mate’s fur, her head rested against their shoulder. Dagon looks small next to Bee’s shifted form, and Aziraphale can’t help but to wince to himself with the pain that she must be in.

“Do you mind if I sit for a little while?” Aziraphale asks, treading cautiously around the Alpha. Bee has been quick to snap, understandably protective over their grieving mate. Bee nudges Dagon with their muzzle, whining and looking back to Aziraphale. Dagon nods after a moment, patting the spot next to them for Aziraphale to come sit. He takes the opportunity, hurrying over and carefully maneuvering as to not disturb either of the residents too much. Dagon holds her hand out, which Aziraphale takes, and they sit quietly for a long time before either of them speak again. It’s a surprisingly calm silence, nothing awkward or uncomfortable about it: Aziraphale has done this once before with a packmate, not that anyone else needed to know of course, and he knew to wait for Dagon to start any conversation.

“Thank you,” she says, breaking the quiet. She’s muffled from the way she’s pressed into Bee’s side, but Aziraphale is quick to pay attention. “For— for checking on me.”

“Of course, dear,” he soothes, experimentally moving the hand holding hers to rub her arm back and forth, trying to calm her further. “Crowley would have come too, but he’s just fallen asleep. We’ve been trying to settle him down since you both left the other night.” Dagon manages a little laugh, sniffling and taking her hand away from Aziraphale’s own to wipe at her eyes.

“He’s always been so dramatic,” she chokes out. Bee whines again, licking gently at Dagon’s cheek. “I know, I know.”

“He’s worried about you,” Aziraphale adds. “I think everyone is. Is there anything that we can do?”

“I don’t know,” she replies quietly, “you would think after having been through this before—” She cuts herself off, as if she’s said too much. Aziraphale doesn't pry.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he says, rubbing her back. “I— if there’s anything I can do—”

“I don't know anymore,” Dagon mutters, mostly to herself. “I don't know how many more times I can do this and try to expect different results.” Aziraphale nods.

“Give yourself some time to grieve,” he offers with a careful tone, “and if you decide to go from there, there’s plenty of options.” Dagon rolls over to face Aziraphale, wiping at her eyes some more before offering a watery smile.

“Thanks, Aziraphale,” she mumbles, taking his hand again. He smiles at her, rubbing his thumb over the top of her hand before standing up, lingering just a bit longer before dropping her hand.

“I’ll leave you to rest, but let me know if you need anything dear.” She hums in agreeance as he heads for the door, closing it quietly behind him before going about daily activities around the house.

Aziraphale wakes late that night to a cold and empty bed, momentarily panicking before he realizes where he is. There’s no danger, even if Crowley’s away, and he’s sure that he’ll be back soon anyway. Aziraphale lies awake, tossing and turning a while before finally deciding to hell with it. He swings his legs over the side of the bed and fumbles with a pair of old slippers and pads down the hall towards Dagon’s room.

Aziraphale presses the door open, squinting in the darkness and— yes, as he suspected, there’s Crowley curled up around Dagon. At some point he had decided to shift, most likely to be able to accommodate for the best possible cuddle configuration. Bee is on her other side — also still shifted — and Aziraphale laughs at the picture of two large wolves curled up to fit on a queen size bed. Aziraphale leans against the door frame for a few minutes, just looking on at the peaceful scene. Eventually, he heads back down the hall to his room to settle in, falling asleep knowing that everything would work out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for another late chapter, the end-of-semester is beating me up with projects but never fear! Last week of classes are this week, and then it's back to regularly scheduled chapters! Feel free once again to yell at me in the comments, as I readily deserve it for the angst, but there will be fluff the next few chapters! As always, hope everyone's staying safe at home!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm officially done with school for the semester (after a grueling week of finals), so there'll be a double update with this chapter and another tomorrow afternoon!

Despite the tragedy, life has to go on for the pack. After the first day of her being back and taking time to spend with just her mate, Dagon starts to rest on the couches in the living room while watching bad reality TV and snuggling with other members of the pack. Bee is never far away and if they have matters to attend to, Crowley is the one nearby — within sight, most commonly, but also within cuddle range. After two weeks, he’s started to be more mobile and at Asmodeus’s discretion, he takes back normal pack leader duties of light patrols around the territory so that his sibling doesn’t have to.

Since Dagon’s been home, Adaira and Rory are never too far from her side. Aziraphale’s not sure if anyone had explained it to them yet — he thinks maybe, with the way they snuggle up to her and he’s heard them cautiously asking Bee more about it — but even if they hadn’t been, he’s always thought that children were wise beyond their youth. The twins have been perfect, no bickering or fighting with each other and no talking back to any of the adults — they were often well-behaved, but they were still children and siblings, and were prone to their little spats over toys or who got what plate for lunch — but since Dagon’s return, they’d been perfect angels.

Right now, Aziraphale is lying shifted in front of the couch where Dagon is snuggled up with Michael, Abbadon, and Sitri while they all watch the afternoon news — even though it gives Aziraphale a headache to look at the TV with eyes unable to see half of the colors being presented. Adaira and Rory are beginning to settle down for an afternoon nap, laying against Aziraphale. Every once in a while they’ll get a bit rowdy, trying to roughhouse with each other but it just takes a little nudge from Aziraphale’s snout to get them to hunker back down and use Aziraphale’s side as a pillow.

Crowley hurries into the room, Ligur and Legion hot on his heels fresh off a round of checking the borders of their territory — they’d all been on edge since the fight with Gabriel, making sure that there was no sign of the opposing Alpha anywhere near their home. Crowley opens his mouth but sees the twins, settling down and Adaira nearly asleep (and he notes the matching glare that Dagon and Bee cast him) and comes closer so as not to yell.

“They’ve decided that they’re holding the council meeting tonight,” Crowley says in a hushed tone, looking between Bee and Aziraphale. “We went into town to check.” Aziraphale can see from the corner of his eye when Bee reaches for Dagon’s hand, tensing their entire body up. Crowley notices too, the way he holds a hand up. “You don’t have to go, I told them you’re seeing to personal matters. I didn’t tell anyone anything else, though. I can let Lu know tonight, if you want. I’m sure he and Chloe will be there.” Bee nods and Aziraphale whines, his tail thudding against the floor. Dagon looks down at him, draping a hand to rest on his flank.

“You don’t have to go,” Dagon says quickly, “if you don’t want to. I don’t know if… well, I would hope _he_ won’t be there.” Her nose wrinkles in disgust, her lip curling up in a sneer before she settles herself and leans to brush a hand through Rory’s hair. He hardly moves, already fallen further into his nap.

“Oh, right, can’t shift with toddlers asleep on you,” Crowley reminds himself, looking around the couch to see the toddlers in question peacefully curled up into Aziraphale’s belly and side. “I’ll get them put to bed and we can talk about options.” Crowley comes over quietly, scooping both children up with little fuss as he walks back towards their room. Aziraphale shifts out, leaning to the arm of the couch to grab his shirt to put on. Crowley comes back in a few minutes, throwing Aziraphale a pair of flannel pants to slide on and pointedly ignoring him in his boxers.

“So,” Aziraphale says, sitting back down on the floor, legs crossed, “when do we leave?” Michael looks at him from her spot on the couch, Dagon’s legs draped across her lap.

“Aziraphale, you don’t _have_ to go,” she says, looking at Dagon and then to Sitri, curled up on her left. “I’m sure Crowley can just go with Ligur and Asmodeus and — _whoever_ else wants to go and settle everything.” Aziraphale turns his head to look at her, resting a hand on her knee.

“I _want_ to go,” he says firmly, “I want to be able to experience things I wasn’t allowed to before, and who better to vouch for what a bad leader Gabriel was?”

“He has a point,” Bee chimes in carefully, looking back to Crowley. “It’s a good idea to have someone from the inside.” Crowley shakes his head.

“I could take someone else,” he says, “Uh— Gadreel, or…”

“No one has the same moral weight I have,” Aziraphale says as Crowley trails off, standing up to take Crowley’s hand. “Even if he _is_ there, I can face him.”

“It’s too _soon_ ,” Crowley tries, and Aziraphale crosses his arms.

“I don’t think you get to decide that,” he states firmly, daring Crowley to try and argue. They may be tentative-mates, with the unusual courting going on (and the _sleeping-in-the-same-bed_ situation) but Aziraphale is capable of standing his ground. Crowley flounders for an argument, but deflates after a moment of lip-flapping.

“Fine,” he agrees, “but _if_ Gabriel is there and _if_ he tries anything—”

“You’ll behave,” Aziraphale chides, standing on his toes to press a quick kiss to the underside of Crowley’s jaw, “because as far as I have been told, meetings are supposed to be neutral gatherings that promote peace.” Crowley quirks an eyebrow up, as if to ask where he’d gotten that information, and Aziraphale just huffs and rolls his eyes, much to Bee and Sitri’s amusement.

“He’s capable of asking questions,” Sitri teases, “ _and_ we’ll always answer them!” Crowley shoots the Beta a glare with no real malice behind it, getting her to laugh.

“We leave here at quarter to five,” Crowley finally says, rubbing at his temples, “and for the record: you all give me a headache. I’m going to nap before we leave.” He accepts his defeat and turns for the hallway, heading back for Aziraphale’s room (which, neither had acknowledged could go back to being _only_ Aziraphale’s room: Crowley had been well enough for stairs for a few days).

Aziraphale settles back in front of the couch, reading the headlines as they come across the screen. Bee snorts once Crowley’s out of earshot, nudging Aziraphale in the shoulder with a foot they have to wiggle out from under the pile of snuggled packmates.

“Look at you, telling a big bad pack leader what to do,” they say with a smirk. Aziraphale rolls his eyes, batting Bee away.

“Oh, just quiet down and watch the news.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is going to be a longer one, with the council meeting taking place! Thanks for being so patient and after tomorrow, back to normal schedule!


	13. Chapter 13

Admittedly, Aziraphale’s anxiety grows as the clock ticks towards five o’ clock. He’s wondering if he’s properly thought this through as his packmates begin to trickle together to leave. Eventually, there’s a gathering in the living room of pack members who have decided to come along — Aziraphale is the only one coming along from Gabriel’s old pack, and it increases his nerves tenfold. Sure, everyone here is his family — and has been for a few months now — but he still wishes Gadreel or Michael or Uriel would have decided to come along.

“Hey,” Hastur says with a hand on his shoulder. Aziraphale jumps with a barely-audible yelp at the sudden contact before settling himself back down. “Nervous?”

“... A bit,” he admits. “I’ve never done this before. Nothing like it.” He takes care not to bring up his uncle, the elephant in the room as everyone casts sideways glances to him.

“‘S a lot of politics,” the Beta answers with a shrug, also opting to avoid the topic of Gabriel. “I only go ‘cause Ligur does.” Aziraphale chuckles a bit at that, looking around for him. He spots Ligur talking to Phoenex, who’s decided to tag along, as she packs a bag with snacks.

“You must really care about him,” Aziraphale says, “to go with him when he likes things and you don’t.”

“That’s a part of loving someone,” he replies with a half-smile, “you learn about the things they like and sometimes you partake in them. Y’know, like when someone says they like classic literature and you go out and start researching Shakespeare.” Aziraphale turns to him.

“What?”

“You haven’t noticed? Half the time Crowley’s awake he’s got his nose buried in one play or book or another,” Hastur teases, “told me the other day he tried some old poetry but couldn’t get into it. I’m sure he’ll try again.” Aziraphale feels heat rise to his face and his ears turning red, trying to sputter out some kind of a response.

“It’s sweet of him to try,” he manages after a moment of trying. Hastur grins and nods, walking away to join Ligur’s conversation. Crowley finally comes down the stairs, looking around the room.

“This everyone?” he asks, doing a quick head count.

“Think we’re ready,” Asmodeus offers. “Taking the truck?” Crowley nods, finishing the count.

“Alright, everyone go load up. Stenno, you can take shotgun this time.” The Beta lets out a little squeak of excitement before running for the door, nearly knocking Hastur and Asmodeus over.

“Can’t get in if the door’s locked!” Ligur calls after her, though ignored. He rolls his eyes. “Pups.”

“She’s twenty-three,” Phoenex corrects. “You’re just old.”

“Bite me,” he fires back with a laugh, “we still have a while until any of ours get like that.”

“Jaspur’s six, that’s not too far off from being a teenager.” She gives the Beta a smile. “I’m sure you two’ll have a _blast_ with that.”

“Please don’t remind me,” Hastur groans, “because then that makes _me_ old.” Aziraphale smiles at the interaction as they head for the door, just as Crowley comes up behind him.

“Feeling alright?” the Alpha asks, arms wrapping around Aziraphale’s shoulders while he buries his nose in white-blond curls.

“Fine,” Aziraphale lies. Crowley sighs against him, pressing a kiss behind his ear.

“You don’t have to go,” he reminds him softly, letting his grip loosen enough for Aziraphale to turn around to face him. “I’m sure everything will go smoothly.”

“I-I _want_ to do this,” Aziraphale says resolutely, “it’s just new. It’s supposed to be a little scary, I think.” Crowley smiles and presses another kiss to his forehead.

“Brave thing, you are,” he teases. Aziraphale smiles and rolls his eyes, pushing Crowley’s shoulder carefully — not that he wants him far away at the moment.

“Next thing you know I’ll be defending my own honor when someone comes knocking,” he offers. Crowley laughs, taking a step forward to grab at Aziraphale’s hand.

“Kiss before we go?” he asks, bottom lip pouted out. “Just for your fearless leader?”

“You’re insufferable,” Aziraphale tells him matter-of-factly.

“Must be relatively sufferable if you’re still letting me sleep in bed with you,” Crowley smiles, leaning down to press his lips against Aziraphale’s. It’s quick, and it leaves Aziraphale wanting to stay like that for an eternity, but Crowley pulls away.

“I tolerate you greatly,” Aziraphale replies, “and besides, I still owe my dashing knight for a skilful rescue.” Crowley looks a bit smug at that, puffing his chest out as Ailestar comes passing by and flicks his ear. Crowley just yelps and jumps, glaring after his packmate.

“Come on, or we leave without you!” Ailestar calls as he walks out the door, grabbing his jacket from the rack as he goes. Aziraphale poorly hides a laugh as he follows suit, Crowley trailing after him like a scolded puppy. Aziraphale passes him a jacket as they leave, which Crowley begrudgingly accepts — if Aziraphale’s learned anything while Crowley’s been staying in his room, it’s that he’s always cold and it results in him hogging the blankets.

Aziraphale and Crowley make it over to the truck -- an older Chevy, with a few thick blankets laid out on the bed. The two of them join everyone in the pickup truck, everyone except Asmodeus and Stenno sitting cross legged and leaning against one another in the bed. Crowley’s decided against joining them all, instead standing up with his hands keeping him steady with a white-knuckle grip on the roof rack. Aziraphale’s sitting next to Phoenex, who hands him a Capri Sun from her bag.

“To keep your blood sugar up, I didn’t see you for lunch,” she tells him, pulling out a granola bar to toss across the truck bed to Ailestar, who thanks her with a nod. That seems to get Crowley’s attention momentarily, Aziraphale catches the subtle look that says _We’ll talk later about you missing lunch_. Phoenex continues, “And there’s more for later tonight if you get hungry. Never know how long these damn things last.” Aziraphale manages a chuckle, accepting the juice pouch and drinking it down from the sheer nerves and the truck roars to life. Crowley’s still standing up, and it strikes a nerve — something protective in Aziraphale, with Crowley only just recently getting the majority of his stitches out. He opens his mouth to tell him to sit down, that there are still _bandages_ under his clothes, but Asmodeus beats him to it as he rolls the driver’s side window down.

“Anthony Crowley, sit your ass down before you fall flat on it,” he chides, casting a glance back in the rearview. Crowley shoots him a withering glare but obeys, his back pressed against the cab of the truck. Phoenex smirks and throws him a granola bar of his own.

“Not so big and bad when ‘Mo gets on you, huh?” she teases, lifting an eyebrow. He manages a withering glare, but rolls his eyes in defeat.

“Oh, quiet you,” he teases back, “and hand me one of those juice pouches.” Phoenex’s cheshire grin widens and she reaches back into the bag, throwing him another. “How many of these did you bring?” He winces as the truck hits a rough bump.

“Do you _really_ want the answer to that?” Ligur asks, sitting up from where he leans his head on Hastur’s shoulder. “She’s always got a ton in that damn bag.”

“Don’t hear you complaining when I have something _you_ need,” she fires back quickly. Ligur shrugs. Aziraphale tunes them out after a while, turning to sit on his knees and watch the landscape pass. He’s only been into the town a few times in his life, mostly kept away from it by Gabriel. He wonders, if he’d been allowed to leave and go to town, how soon until he’d met someone from Crowley's pack? Would he have left sooner, would it have saved him from the extra time around Gabriel’s toxicity?

“Thinking yourself in circles won’t help you any,” Phoenex says with a nudge of her elbow. Aziraphale snaps himself out of it, nodding in response. “You been into town any time recently?”

“Not for a while, no…” he trails off, watching the trees fly past them. Phoenex hums to herself, leaning back against the wall of the truck bed.

“It’s nice,” she starts, “small but it has enough — y’know, a couple gas stations and a Subway, all the staples of a small town. We have a library and town hall and everything. Oh, and they built a Walmart last year too, one of the smaller ones. It was a big deal.” Aziraphale nods.

“I never paid much attention to it,” he replies, leaving out how he had only ever been into town with Gabriel who had a very one-track line of thinking when they went. “Maybe some time I’ll make a day of it.”

“That’s all it takes,” Ligur chimes in. “There’s not much to see, really. A nice park, though, and a few bars.” Ailestar snorts, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, bigshot, it’s not much to see when you went everywhere with the military,” he teases. “Saw plenty of exciting big cities.”

“Hey, it got me here didn’t it?” he fires back jokingly. “Not like I enjoyed it.”

“You were in the military? What was that like?” Aziraphale asks. Ligur’s face darkens. Aziraphale immediately regrets asking about it.

“I don’t talk about it,” he says evenly, “It doesn’t matter. I’m here now.” Aziraphale nods a few times, reminding himself not to bring it up later. The rest of the drive Aziraphale doesn’t talk and instead goes back to looking at the scenery as they drive by. They’ve gotten out of the heavily wooded area and they’re rolling past farm fields and mostly-empty pastures. It’s the farthest from home (either of them) he’s been in the past few months, and it’s to meet complete strangers and possibly defend Crowley against repercussions from protecting him.

Eventually, they pass the welcome sign to the town proper, and Aziraphale can see tiny neighborhoods begin to dot the outskirts of the town. He’s a little put off, with the way that the few people are eyeing them as they drive by all clad in winter coats. He’s read about small towns’ opinions on shifters and he’s not been into this one enough to find out their opinions.

“Don’t worry about ‘em,” Crowley pipes up, “they’re just not used to seeing this many of us at one time. They’re not… y’know.” He flourishes his hands and it’s enough to get the point across. Aziraphale nods before Crowley continues, “Besides, our family’s been here a long time like I said. Y’know how there’s that one family in a town that’s been there forever? That’s us.”

“I see…” Aziraphale replies, pretending to understand. It is a comfort, however, to know that there’s not any tension between the non-Shifting members of town and the ones that do.

“It helps that half of us work for the state and they’re on territory a lot,” Phoenex chimes in. Aziraphale spins around, eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline. Today was just all about unknown information.

“... What?”

“We technically live on a section of nature preserve,” Crowley explains, “but part of the land has been ours for ages. We let the state give it the status of a preserve and we act as wardens and rangers with the same pay. No one better to work the trails than people who’ve lived here a long time.” Crowley smiles at him. “What, thought none of us worked and just all were from money?”

“I honestly had no idea,” Aziraphale admits, “I figured you just came from old oil money like Gabriel.”

“Ha, I’d rather get poison oak than have old snooty money,” Crowley jokes. “Nah, I don’t think I ever got a solid story for how the ancestors got the money for everything. But they’re dead now and it’s not like I can ask mum or dad, so what’s the point?” The Alpha shrugs. Aziraphale’s suddenly a little awkward, at the mention of Crowley’s deceased parents, and thinks back to his mother. He hopes she’d be proud of him today.

“Hey, we’re almost there,” Abaddon points out, tilting her head to the side and in the general direction down the road. She turns back to Aziraphale. “You’ll love it, I’m sure everyone will be excited to meet you.” Aziraphale manages a weak smile.

In a few minutes, the truck pulls into the parking lot of a bar with the markee under the sign arranged to say _Council Meeting - 5:30 Wednesday_. Aziraphale hadn’t been expecting a bar, but then again — it was probably big enough to fit a large group of people, and it was well-known in town. The truck parks near the back of the lot and Asmodeus gets out of the driver’s seat, Stenno quick behind him on the passenger side.

“Alright kids, everyone file out,” he says with two quick hits to the side of the truck bed. “Everyone’s on their best behavior — _you especially_ , Tony. No bickering, no causing problems.” Phoenex snorts before she jumps out from the side of the bed, bag slung across her body. Crowley grumbles not to call him that but carefully stands up, stretching with a wince as Aziraphale slides down the side of the truck.

“Here.” He sticks his hand out for Crowley, helping him down from the bed. “Don’t need you hurting yourself or irritating anything.”

“Aw, my hero,” he teases back as he steps down with a grunt. He looks towards the building as everyone starts heading for the entrance. “Kiss for good luck?” Aziraphale rolls his eyes.

“You’re a fiend,” he says, pulling Crowley forward to stand on his toes to kiss the corner of his mouth. Crowley smirks into it, moving to press another peck to Aziraphale’s lips properly.

“ _Your_ fiend,” he corrects. “Alright, let’s head in before they miss us too much.” He starts forward, hand still holding Aziraphale’s. He’d never admit it, the hardhead that he is, but Aziraphale can tell he’s anxious too. His shoulders have been held tightly since they’ve left the house, and he’s messing with the ends of his hair as they get to the entrance. Aziraphale gives his hand a squeeze just as they walk in, and with the soft glance that Crowley gives him, it’s appreciated. He’s a bit flushed at the idea of them going in _together_ , so obviously not just friends, but he thinks that they both need the comfort.

The atmosphere inside the building is surprisingly homely. Aziraphale was expecting some kind of silent tension, and a panel of people at the front of the room, and some kind of jury, but instead there’s just a landmass of tables all pushed together near the center of the room that a few people are at so far, all talking amongst themselves. Aziraphale does flinch a bit at the sight of people in uniform.

“Not cops,” Crowley mutters close to Aziraphale’s ear, “they’re a part of the higher-up rangers. They’re _our_ police force because of where the property is, but they don’t align themselves with the state troopers or anything. Not around here, at least.” Aziraphale nods, suddenly thankful that Crowley kept with him. He doesn’t recognize everyone he sees, there’s a number of unfamiliar people — he can smell some as humans, and a few fellow wolves he’s never met before and don’t smell at all familiar. He nearly asks Crowley about it, but he’s soon interrupted.

“Crowley!” a voice calls from the side of the room, startling Aziraphale. Crowley’s head shoots up and he’s suddenly a little more at ease, smiling at the man who’s walking towards them. He’s probably no older than forty, tall with slicked back dark hair and stubble with a smaller woman keeping step with him. She’s just as much a commanding presence, but more subtle — the kind of commanding that doesn’t need to be exaggerated to be known. Her companion lifts one arm, an invitation for a hug.

“Hey, uncle Lu,” Crowley replies, briefly letting go of Aziraphale’s hand to accept the hug. Aziraphale’s taken aback because, all things considered, he doesn’t look _old_ enough to be Crowley’s uncle. Aziraphale doesn’t know how old either of Crowley’s parents were, but this had to be a _younger_ brother. Crowley leans away, turning to the woman while taking Aziraphale’s hand again. “And Chloe, you’re looking wonderful as always.”

“Flatter,” she accuses with a half-smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “How’re you feeling?”

“Less shredded-to-ribbons, but more Frakenstein’s monster,” he says jokingly. “How’s Trixie?”

“She’s staying out in LA for a little while,” she replies, “wanted to stay with her dad a little longer while we came in for a visit for a while.” Crowley nods.

“Ah, yeah, makes sense. It’s getting cold up here anyway.” Crowley suddenly remembers Aziraphale — who’s content for the time being just observing — and takes a step back to fall into line next to him. “Oh, and, uh — this is Aziraphale.” He manages a wave, trying not to stand too awkwardly.

“Ah, yes, we’ve heard you’ve been causing quite a stir around here,” Lu says, extending a hand. Aziraphale shakes it, forcing himself not to shake with nerves. “I’m Samael Morningstar — friends and family call me Lucifer, and this is Chloe—”

“His better, smarter, more level-headed half,” she finishes, looking smug at the look that it garners her from Lucifer. “It’s nice to meet you, we’ve heard a lot.” Aziraphale smiles, reaching a hand out for her to shake, which she happily accepts.

“Likewise, Crowley and Bee talk about you both a lot,” he says. He knows a bit about Lucifer, but less about his mate — Aziraphale had only heard about Crowley’s apparent cousin in passing, and Chloe about as much. “Should we go sit down, or…?”

“Probably for the best,” Lucifer replies, “We’ll go find our seats — catch us before you leave again, yeah?”

“Of course,” Crowley replies, tugging Aziraphale towards where the rest of the pack sits at one side of the table. Crowley takes a seat next to Phoenex, Aziraphale between him and Hastur. Nearly everyone’s settled at the table, just as the final few members approach their seats at the head of the table — an older woman in a pair of scrubs, a younger man in what was probably his late thirties wearing a state park uniform, and a young woman with dark hair and thick-rimmed glasses.

“Is everyone here?” the woman in scrubs asks as she sits down, looking around the table. There’s a murmur around the room of general consensus as Crowley leans over.

“That’s Ellen,” he whispers, “she’s a Beta, she works at the hospital further in town, we’ve got the only one in the span of a few towns.” Aziraphale nods, as it makes sense she’s in scrubs. “And the guy’s Liam Jacobson, he’s the head from the ranger’s department for this area — kind of a hardass, and he’s not a shifter, he’s always at these for the human perspective. And the other girl is Anathema Device, she's a pantherinae — snow leopard. She moved here a few years back. Dunno her presentation, kind of gives off an Alpha type of energy but there’s a different smell with them and whatnot.” Aziraphale nods — he’d seldom met a non-wolf shifter, and never any classified as a big cat shifter.

“Why’s she here, then?” Aziraphale asks. Crowley shrugs.

“Mostly as a mediator, she doesn’t have a side to fight for,” Crowley replies. “And there’s a few other non-wolves in town. She keeps their wellbeing in mind, looks out for their interests.” Another nod, looking between them. He wouldn't have pegged Ellen as a Beta with the way she holds herself, but stereotypes are stereotypes for a reason. He kicks himself for it. He opens his mouth to ask more questions but Ellen clears her throat and the room quiets again.

“Alright, if we’re ready to get started, then let's begin,” Ellen says as she clears her throat, looking around the room. “We all know the main reason we’re here, so let’s get to it.” She looks over to Liam.

“It seems that there was an altercation a few weeks ago,” he starts, looking at Crowley, “between you and another pack leader. Care to explain?” Crowley grabs Aziraphale’s hand under the table, squeezing tightly. Aziraphale rubs his thumb over the top of Crowley’s hand with a silent reassurance: _I’m here, it’ll be fine._

“Of course,” Crowley says with a deep breath. “Gabriel Engell trespassed onto my pack’s territory and forcibly removed a member who had made the decision to leave. Upon finding out I left with members to get him back and was met with hostility and the packmate in question was being held against his will. I did what needed to be down to ensure his and others’ safety and I’m sure others in good standing would justify my decision.” Aziraphale shudders thinking back to the event. He still wakes up in a cold sweat some nights over the ordeal.

“And you have witnesses willing to come forward with this?” Ellen asks, her hands folded in front of her. Aziraphale takes a breath, steadying himself, before lifting his hand slightly. “Yes?”

“Hello, I— well you see, I’m the er, packmate in question?” he tries. It’s as if a spotlight is on him, quiet enough to hear a pin drop. Liam looks at him, eyes narrowed.

“Would you tell us about what happened?” he asks, sounding relatively bored. Aziraphale nods, swallowing. Anathema takes it as a good time to jump in.

“Assuming he’s comfortable with it,” she says, voice even, “It must have been an ordeal for him too.” Aziraphale offers her a kind smile, which she accepts with a nod. “Whenever you’re ready…?” She’s waiting for a name. Aziraphale’s mouth is suddenly much drier, and if not for the comforting squeeze from Crowley’s hand, he would have bolted then and there.

“Aziraphale Engell,” he finally says, “I was — am — Gabriel’s nephew.” There’s a quick murmur around the table that’s not dominated by Aziraphale’s packmates, and Ellen quiets it with just a stern look. She nods for Aziraphale to continue. “I left Gabriel’s pack after being chased out. Crowley’s took me in, and said I could stay if I wished, and I did — I _do_. Gabriel ambushed me one morning a few months later and forced me back to his pack. Crowley just came after me.”

“He said you were kept against your will?” Liam says, raising an eyebrow. “Expand on that?”

 _I would really rather not,_ he thinks bitterly, but prepares to continue on nonetheless. Aziraphale can just barely hear the growl forming at the back of Crowley’s throat, and opts to nudge the Alpha’s calf with his foot beneath the table. He doesn’t need him starting a fight, even at Aziraphale’s defense. Phoenex leans back to get a glance in, sympathetic and comforting, before he’s able to go again.

“I was kept handcuffed and hobbled, muzzled on top of that,” he manages, ignoring the shaking of his hand not being held by Crowley. There’s another murmur through the room, filled with unrest. Liam shouts for everyone to quiet down again, earning a glare from both Ellen and Anathema.

“That must have been a lot to go through,” Ellen says, “and what of the rest of the pack?”

“They were as afraid as I was. It— Gabriel kept control with fear. He wasn’t a good leader and when Crowley showed up, half of my old packmates were starving so he could maintain power over them.” He huffs, dropping Crowley’s hand and resting both of his on the table with a bit more force than what might have been necessary. He’s had enough. “Crowley did us all a favor and could have _died_ for it by the end, and it would be nice if he was taken a bit more seriously all things considered. He’s not doing this for a political reason, or to threaten anyone else, he did it because it was the right thing to do, and I’m _sure_ any of my old-and-new-again packmates would agree.” By the end of it he’s snapping and his fists are balled, eyes narrowed in the direction of the three at the head of the table. Liam looks taken aback, and Anathema a little shocked, but Ellen looks surprisingly smug.

“Of course,” she replies cooly, “and it’s not a problem.” She turns her attention back to Crowley. “It had nothing to do with an ulterior motive to acquire territory?”

“No,” he replies truthfully. Liam narrows his eyes.

“And the severity of the injuries sustained by any party?” he asks.

“If I may, Mr. Jacobson,” Asmodeus offers. Liam nods before Asmodeus keeps on, “I treated Crowley’s injuries and heard firsthand from others that were at the scene that he sustained the most severe injuries. Gabriel, as far as I know, made a full recovery and didn’t seek any additional medical assistance.”

“Thank you for that,” Ellen says with a nod. Aziraphale wonders if maybe they know each other beyond these meetings. “And you said something about new members of the pack?”

“Most of my old pack deserted in favor of joining Crowley’s,” Aziraphale clarifies. “They’re doing well.” Ellen nods.

“Do give them my well-wishes, and I hope to meet them soon,” she says kindly. She waits for any other questions before giving a final nod, gesturing for Crowley’s attention. “Consider it a non-issue on your part, you did what you needed to protect the pack and lethal force wasn’t used on your part. Most of us who have been around Gabriel a while now have had our suspicions about this without any proof for a long time, and have been unable to act. He’ll be kept under surveillance for a while, and have his own summons later in the week. Depending on how it goes, it could be brought to authorities beyond this council.”

Aziraphale lets go of a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding, and he has to force himself not to break down over it — if Gabriel could be examined by further legal parties, it could end with further disciplinary measures from official offices. Crowley nods, and it almost looks like he says a prayer to someone or another. Liam looks a little resigned, but says nothing. Ellen continues, “If that’s all, then I suspect the business part of this council meeting is finished. If there are any questions, we’ll all be here a while longer.” There’s a voice speaking up from the far end of the table, but Aziraphale tunes the rest out.

“Hey, you did it,” Hastur mutters to him, “I’m impressed. Took some guts.” Aziraphale nods mutely, still in disbelief that he’d snapped at someone — _someones_ — in authority.

“I… didn’t think I’d ever get to talk about it like that,” he whispers back. Hastur gently claps him on the shoulder.

“Small victories,” he replies, “still count for something.” Aziraphale nods, and moves in favor of leaning against Crowley’s shoulder. He manages to sneak a subtle kiss to Aziraphale’s head, taking a deep breath.

“That was amazing,” he tells him, “and kind of hot when you got angry.” Aziraphale holds back a laugh and swats Crowley’s thigh underneath the table, getting a quiet laugh out of him. “Really, I’m proud of you.”

“It was the right thing to do,” he tries to reason.

“Still, you were shaking like a leaf. I was worried you might pass out there for a minute.” Crowley presses another quick kiss against Aziraphale’s temple. “A proper badass.” Aziraphale’s enjoying the comforting presence of Crowley’s warmth, just as Ellen finishes taking up another concern.

“If that’s all, then the business portion of this council meeting is over with,” she says. “Otherwise, we’ll be sticking around for some socializing. You’re free to stick around or head home, just stay safe.” At the silence she’s met with, she nods. “Alright, adjourned, thanks for coming out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ended up splitting this chapter into two (the next bit will be out on Wednesday), since otherwise it would have ended up an almost-10k chapter. And, for further clarification: Lucifer and Chloe are both from the Fox TV show, but other than that are relatively their own standalones and thus, Lucifer (TV) isn't tagged because they're really the only references to it (and it's mostly because I enjoy Tom Ellis's characterization). Just wanted to clear that up! We're getting into a lot more backstory and lore, so stay tuned! Thanks for reading and for being patient!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief mention of a miscarriage, but nothing graphic or lingering -- just a warning!

With the meeting officially adjourned, the members around the table begin to disperse. A good chunk of the members present head for their coats and the door right away, leaving just Crowley’s pack and a few stragglers behind — Lucifer and Chloe, as well as Anathema and someone speaking with her, and Ellen. Aziraphale is immediately surrounded by his packmates, praising him for the way he spoke and how brave it was to do it.

“Michael’s gonna be sad she missed out,” Stenno teases. “Oh and wait till Dagon hears, she’s gonna love it.” Aziraphale rolls his eyes.

“You don’t worry either of them with this,” he chides. “It wasn’t a big deal, it was just— it was what needed to be done, that’s all.” That sparks up a whole new slew of chatter insisting that it _was_ a big deal, until Ellen clears her throat behind them. They all disperse rather quickly in favor of going off on their own, leaving Crowley and Aziraphale with the Beta. Aziraphale’s admittedly nervous, it being his first time around someone with so much pull and power in the community — excluding Crowley and his status as a pack leader, of course.

“Aziraphale, it’s nice to meet you all grown up,” she says with a smile. She holds her hand out and he carefully examines the old wedding ring she wears, glinting in the low light of the bar. Aziraphale’s suddenly confused, but shakes her hand anyway. Her face doesn’t ring any bells.

“Have we… met before today?” he asks. She laughs, shaking her head a bit.

“It was a long time ago,” she offers, “I delivered you. Your mom and I knew each other even before I was her doctor, I saw you a few times as a toddler on friendly business.”

“Oh,” he says quietly, suddenly a bit more reserved. “You— you do know that—”

“Her passing was — _is_ — a tragedy,” she finishes, reaching out to rest a hand on his with a gentle sympathy. “But I’m sure she’d be proud of you. And, I thought you might be interested— her maiden name was Fell, if you’d rather use it, I’m sure Gabriel never told you. I know how much it can hurt to keep a last name with bad connotations.” He nods.

“I— yes, Gabriel didn’t, well, he didn’t tell me much about her,” he tries. She nods, laying a hand on his shoulder. Crowley readjusts himself, squaring his shoulders a little more and keeping his head raised. Aziraphale nearly rolls his eyes at the blatant (and unneeded, in his opinion) posturing.

“I know,” she says, “I would have told you myself, but you know firsthand about how he is. I’m glad you’re somewhere better for yourself.” She turns to Crowley, raising an eyebrow as she’s obviously noticed the way he’s looking at her. “And _you,_ if you’re going to be his mate—”

“I— well— we’re not— not _yet_ —” The mirage of power and control crumbles as Crowley stutters, trying to search for words while Aziraphale just turns pink at his side.

“No, we’re— wait, ‘ _not yet’?!”_ Aziraphale tries, turning to face Crowley who looks like he might combust then and there. “What do you mean about _‘not yet’?”_

“I— well, I mean, err— _wouldyoubewillingtobemymate?”_ It spills out a mess of syllables and words, and Crowley looks mortified. “I was, uh—”

“Is this… an official invitation?” Aziraphale asks. Crowley nods.

“I, uh, well I was planning something more romantic but if you want me to get down on one knee or something so it’s nicer—”

“Oh, no, that’s—” Aziraphale turns another shade of pink darker before smiling. “Of course not. This is fine, dear.” Crowley ducks his head.

“Is it a... yes, then?” he squeaks. Aziraphale smiles and takes his other hand.

“Of course it is,” Aziraphale replies, squeezing his hand. “Of _course_ I want to be with you. Was that ever a question?”

“Maybe,” Crowley says bashfully, and Aziraphale swats him on the shoulder, careful to avoid any healing injuries.

“For someone so sharp, you’re quite dim sometimes,” Aziraphale replies. Crowley smiles, raising their joined hands to press a kiss to the back of Aziraphale’s. Ellen smiles, shaking her head.

“You kids,” she jokingly laments, “always dancing around each other.”

“Last I checked it wasn’t much different back then either,” Crowley fires back, “if any of the stories about my parents are to be believed.” Ellen raises her hands in mock defeat.

“You got me there. And your sibling wasn’t much better. How’re they doing?” she asks. Both of them know what she’s referring to. Crowley looks downcast, and Aziraphale looks away for a moment.

“Okay, for the most part,” Crowley answers with a shrug, “they stayed home with Dagon tonight.” Ellen nods.

“And how’s she doing?” Ellen asks, a look of concern on her face. Aziraphale and Crowley look at each other.

“As well as you can expect,” Aziraphale offers, though he can’t imagine what she’s feeling through all of this — despite his attempts at rationalizing it on his own, “she’s been resting, and we’ve all been taking care of her. It’s going to take a while.”

“Of course. It’s good that they both have all of you,” she says. “Remind her she has an appointment with me at the end of the month, alright?” Crowley nods, and Ellen is sated enough to wave him off. “Alright, you run along, let me talk to Aziraphale.”

“But—”

“It’s fine, Anthony, just go on and catch up with Lucifer and Chloe,” Aziraphale interrupts, pulling Crowley close enough to press a quick kiss to the side of his jaw. Crowley hesitates a moment longer, looking between Aziraphale and Ellen, before walking away. Ellen watches him go, a look of amusement on her face.

“He let you call him Anthony,” she says, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips, “and he’s cute to boot. You did good.”

“Yeah… Guess I did,” he replies with a smile. “Funny how it all works out, isn’t it?” Ellen hums, crossing her arms.

“She’d be proud of you, you know,” she says after a moment of silence. “She always talked about what she wanted for you.” Aziraphale looks at the floor, throat suddenly thick with emotion. He hasn’t cried over his mother in a long time, not since before he left the old pack for good.

“I hope so,” he replies, forcing the impending threat of tears back. Ellen rests a hand on his shoulder.

“She would be,” she repeats. “I’m going to go ahead and head out, but I’ll see you around, alright?” Aziraphale nods as she gives him a pat on the shoulder. “Take care now, y’hear?”

“Yes ma’am,” he responds politely. “And Ellen?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you,” he says, “for… checking on me and telling me about that. I’ll keep in touch.” She smiles kindly and nods, turning to go and talk to Asmodeus. Aziraphale leaves to go to Crowley’s side, taking his hand as he comes in on the back end of a conversation. He rests his head against Crowley’s shoulder, listening as Lucifer talks.

“It’s a shame Bee couldn’t make it,” Lucifer muses, pulling his flask out from a pocket, “Dagon didn't want to make the trip either, I presume?” Aziraphale’s blood runs cold at the mention of his fellow Omega. Crowley looks like he’d rather be anywhere but there.

“I— Dagon…” Crowley starts. Aziraphale takes his hand.

“She… there was a problem with the pregnancy,” Aziraphale says carefully, “earlier this week she went to the hospital.” Lucifer looks back at Crowley, before Chloe speaks up.

“Is she…”

“She’s alright, but… yeah, they lost the baby.” There’s a tense silence before Lucifer downs the rest of the flask.

“Fuck,” is all he says, rubbing at one temple.

“Do you think she’d mind us stopping by after we’re done here?” Chloe asks.

“I don’t think either of them would mind,” Crowley answers, “might be good for them. Familiar faces, and all. You’d better drive though.” Chloe nods, taking the flask out of Lucifer’s hand despite it being empty.

“One step ahead of you,” she adds. Aziraphale tunes out for the most part after, just listening to the quiet small talk before someone taps him on the back. He jumps, spinning around and getting a growl out of Crowley — not directed at him, but whoever made him jump — before both relax at Asmodeus’s appearance.

“We’re getting ready to head back,” he says, “didn’t want to leave without you.” Crowley nods, turning back to Chloe.

“We’ll meet you back home,” he says, waiting for Chloe’s confirmation before turning and walking with Aziraphale to the door.

“It’s a shame I didn’t get to speak with that Anathema girl,” Aziraphale laments. Crowley hums as they begin the slightly-slowed walk to the truck. Crowley’s trying to conceal it, but Aziraphale can tell that he’s begun to weaken from the extent of activity he’s been doing through the night — lots of standing and sitting, up-and-down.

“There’s always next time,” Crowley offers, trying not to grit his teeth, “or we could go into town later. I think I have her number.”

“I would like that,” Aziraphale replies, wrapping his arm around Crowley’s middle to help support him to stay upright. Most everyone’s already settled in the bed of the truck as they approach, the pack members chatting about news around town. Aziraphale gives them a nod as he helps Crowley — thoroughly tired from the evening’s proceedings — settle in. Soon enough they’re pulling back out of the parking lot and heading back towards densely-packed woods, Aziraphale only focusing on the weight of Crowley’s hand in his and the last name _Fell_.

The drive back seems much shorter than the drive there. Before long they’re all unloading from the bed (with Aziraphale helping Crowley down again, the Alpha’s muscles gone stiff and sore from the bumpy ride and overuse) and heading into the house. Crowley insists on waiting outside for Lucifer and Chloe, who pull up a few minutes later in a Range Rover.

“They have a _Range Rover?”_ Aziraphale asks, voice low. Crowley snorts, leaning against the side of the house for more support.

“He manages a bar-nightclub back out West,” Crowley offers, “he acquired it when he was pretty young. Left it with some friends when his sister — our mum — died and he needed to come back here to help with me and Bee.” Aziraphale nods. “Surprisingly un-snobby, all things considered.”

“Yeah, I gathered that,” Aziraphale jokes, standing up straighter as the man in question approaches, trailing behind Chloe. He’s sobered up quite a bit since the meeting, though Aziraphale didn’t know what he was drinking before — he assumes Chloe had gotten him to drink some coffee on the way up.

“They ready for us?” Chloe asks, brushing a stray bit of ponytail away from her eyes. Crowley half-shrugs.

“They don’t know you’re coming, we haven’t been inside yet,” he answers. Chloe nods, and Lucifer looks surprisingly serious — a deviation from everything that Aziraphale has seen and heard of him so far. He bites the bullet and goes forward, stepping inside while Chloe, Aziraphale, and Crowley follow.

His reception is well-met, the pack members in the living room for the most part calling out welcomes and offering handshakes. It startles Michael and Remiel, who are lounging on one of the couches with their backs to the door.

“Oh, terribly sorry,” Lucifer says quickly, “I’m Samael — Lucifer, to all of you — Morningstar.” At the lack of recognition he balks a bit. Phoenex, who was just heading into the kitchen, scoffs and rolls her eyes.

“Crowley and Bee’s uncle, guys, he’s no big deal,” she says with comfort. Lucifer feigns offense, tilting his head and looking taken aback.

“Beg pardon, I am a _huge_ deal,” he fires back. “I’m just not _appreciated_.”

“You might be appreciated more if you showed your face more,” Bee rapid-fires back from their spot leaning in the hallway’s frame, Dagon tucked under one arm and into their side. Lucifer smiles and it’s Dagon who comes forward first, Lucifer enveloping her in a hug before smoothing down her hair from it’s mussed ponytail. It doesn’t even get a growl from Bee, surprisingly enough. Aziraphale notes it as a sign of trust but also of respect — Crowley had mentioned Lucifer and Asmodeus being de-facto pack leaders until Crowley and Bee had come of age, and he supposes that the mindset still stood to some degree, based on the treatment of Asmodeus. Chloe, for her part, moves to the arm of the couch where Michael and Remiel are and strikes up conversation.

“Good to see you,” Lucifer says as he releases her from the hug, keeping his hands on her shoulders. There’s an unsaid double-meaning: _I’m glad you’re looking alright_. “Is there anything you need while we’re in town?” _Is there anything I can do to ease what you’re going through?_ Dagon shakes her head. Aziraphale wonders how long he’s known Dagon, but based on all of what he’s seeing he knows it’s been a while.

“I think we’ll be fine,” she replies, “but thank you. It’s appreciated.” He nods.

“And I should expect my niephew is taking fine care of you?” he questions again.

“’M her mate,” Bee snaps, though there’s no real fire behind it, “’course I am.” Chloe shoots a withering glare at her mate, raising an eyebrow.

“Would it kill you not to tease?” she asks, the same lack of fire behind the question.

“Well, best not to test it, hm?” Lucifer answers. Bee snorts, pushing off the wall and taking a few steps forward. Lucifer gives them the same hug, the same careful hair-smooth. Aziraphale can pick up on the subtleties, just enough to realize the teasing and joking is his form of affection towards Bee — and was reciprocated in such.

“It’s good to see you both,” Bee says after being relinquished from the hug, “I take it business was slow?” Lucifer shrugs.

“Nothing my star manager couldn’t handle,” he says lightly. “It’s been more exciting here, anyway, from all I’ve heard.”

“No more excitement,” Aziraphale says — it’s more of a plea, really, “I would prefer things stay _quiet_ for a while.” Lucifer cackles, and Michael casts a glance to Aziraphale with the meaning of ‘ _who the Hell is this and why is he in here?’_ He sends her back one with the ‘ _I’ll explain later if you don’t figure it out’_ meaning. Chloe comes back up to Lucifer, leaning against the opposite wall and gives Aziraphale a nod.

“I’m with you, Aziraphale,” Chloe answers, “I’m content with some boredom.” Dagon manages a little laugh, but her arms soon come back up to hold at the shawl wrapped around her shoulders. Bee moves to let her curl back closely to her side.

“I’d offer some dinner, but we didn’t really do anything proper tonight,” Bee says. Phoenex pops her head in from the kitchen.

“I can offer a granola bar!” she says excitedly, and Michael perks up a little.

“That offer for me too?” she asks, and in response, Phoenex tosses one across the room with a cheer when Michael actually _catches_ it. Lucifer turns.

“Oh! Where are my manners, I don’t think we caught names,” he sas. Chloe rolls her eyes, and Aziraphale can’t help but hope that at some point he and Crowley will joke and tease so effortlessly.

“Michael and Remiel,” Chloe tells him and then with a smile to the couch’s inhabitants, adds, “I’m the social graces, sometimes, when not in the business of clubbing.” Remiel giggles a little, pushing her glasses back up on her nose. “You’re from Aziraphale’s pack though, right?”

“Yes, and it was kind of Crowley and Bee to take us in,” Michael says carefully. Crowley gives a pained smile, stepping away from Aziraphale’s support to lean against the arm of the couch, and Aziraphale keeps close behind him to make sure he stays steady.

“Nah, just common decency,” he corrects. “No more walking on eggshells, remember?” Michael nods.

“You’re not looking too good,” she points out before standing up and maneuvering Crowley to sit in her spot. She scoots to the side, letting Aziraphale occupy the space next to the Alpha. “Can’t be straining yourself, Asmodeus wouldn’t be happy.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Lucifer adds. He turns to Dagon and Bee. “You should both sit too, don’t need to be wasting energy on my account.” Bee hums, but agrees wordlessly and escorts themselves and their mate to an oversized bean bag chair in the corner of the room — close enough still not to yell to be heard, but far enough to give them space between their packmates. Comfortable, but not to give off the idea that either were threatened.

“Anything new in town?” Michael asks.

“Other than Crowley’s stunt, not really,” Lucifer answers before anyone else can, “and Aziraphale gave _quite_ the speech in his defense.”

“ _They tried to do something about what happened?”_ Bee growls out, turning to their brother. Crowley can’t get an answer before Michael and Remiel turn to look at him too.

“We didn’t get you into any trouble, did we?” Michael asks next, worrying her hands in her lap. Crowley shakes his head and waves her to stop.

“It all went completely fine,” he soothes, “they just asked what happened and Aziraphale told them exactly what went on. Gabriel’s being looked at for legal infringements.” Bee visibly deflates, but Michael tenses up again.

“Would that come back to hurt us, if he found out?” She looks between Aziraphale and Remiel. “Would that put us in danger of retaliation?”

“If he’s intelligent,” Lucifer grumbles, “he’ll keep his nose _far_ away from here.” Crowley nods.

“And aside from that,” Chloe adds, “if he was found to be doing anything like that, it would bring in higher authority — even above the state or regional jurisdiction. Even if he’s not the smartest, he’d avoid bringing federal agents onto him.” Aziraphale looks back at her, confused, which she answers with a smile. “I’m on the police force back home, nothing major, but they have a division for shifters.”

“I’ve... never heard of a police force doing that,” Remiel admits quietly. “I thought they just used us as — what, the body dogs?” Chloe shakes her head, withholding a small smile.

“It’s more progressive, out west and on the east coast,” she answers. “We’re more or less an auxiliary department. It’s not the best and of course there’s work to be done to better it, but it’s something.” Remiel nods, and Aziraphale looks on with equal parts admiration and astonishment.

“Still nice,” he answers. Chloe nods.

“It’s an improvement, and it’s started a precedent. Some of the middle-sized towns are even lowering the requirements to get more of us on the force,” Chloe says as she tugs on a chain carefully hidden under her clothes, holding up the badge on the end. Aziraphale, admittedly, thinks it looks like it does on TV shows — he’d never really seen a police badge up close before, so he doesn’t fault himself.

“I’m very proud of course!” Lucifer chimes in, an arm wrapping around her shoulder.

“I hadn’t even met you when I got this,” she teases, pushing him off but with a smile. “Don’t pretend like this is somehow your doing.”

“Of course,” he says, smiling and leaning down to press a quick peck to her forehead. Chloe turns back to the group with a smile.

“It’s getting late,” she says, “we should be getting home and I’m sure you’re all tired. We can do dinner tomorrow, if you’re feeling up to it.”

“That sounds nice,” Dagon says, still snuggled into her mate’s side. Bee wraps their arms tighter around her, rubbing lightly back and forth on her shoulder. Dagon does, however, look at Crowley. “Think you’ll be up for it? You might be sore tomorrow, too.” Crowley waves it off, shaking his head.

“’M fine, don’t spoil the fun on my account. ‘Sides,” he turns to Lucifer, “you both aren’t in town that often, might as well make it worthwhile.” Chloe hums, grabbing Lucifer’s hand and heading for the door.

“It’s decided then,” she says as she fishes the keys from her pocket, “we’ll be here at around six, if that sounds alright?”

“Fine by me,” Crowley answers. “Drive safe, deer season and all that.” Lucifer snorts.

“If there’s deer, then your lot’s slacking on hunting,” he teases. Crowley narrows his eyes.

“As if you hunt anymore, mister entrepreneur.” That gets a laugh out of Aziraphale, which earns him a cheeky smile from Lucifer as he’s being pulled out the door to keep from continuing the conversation.

“Have a good night!” he calls, just as the door closes. Crowley lets himself deflate, taking a deep breath. Aziraphale would go so far as to compare it to a puppet whose strings were cut, leaving only a few intact.

“Let’s get you into bed,” Aziraphale offers, taking Crowley’s hand and helping him stand as he looks at the clock. “Seems that meeting went longer than we thought, it’s nearly ten!”

“Angel, that’s _not_ late,” Crowley groans dramatically as he’s walked back towards Aziraphale’s room. Aziraphale has none of it, instead just opening the door and helping Crowley stumble out of his jeans and into bed. He pointedly ignores that this is the most undressed he’s ever really _seen_ Crowley in for an extended period of time, and they’re _sleeping in the same bed_. Of course, Aziraphale would have pajamas.

Once Crowley’s settled, Aziraphale is quick to change into soft flannel pajamas and crawl into bed almost-beside Crowley, keeping some distance between them. The weight of the day suddenly sank in.

_Crowley asked to mate me_ , he thinks, _and I said yes._ He never thinks it’s a mistake — never says it’s not what he wants — but it’s still weighing on him. A year ago he was thinking about running away and getting a bus ticket across the country, leaving this place forever, and now he’s laying in bed with someone who wanted to stay with him forever. Really, this odd bout of courtship was completely against tradition — Aziraphale wasn’t complaining, though. But tradition was a big deal, it had _always_ been a big deal, and what if—

“I can hear you thinking,” Crowley teases, and it nearly scares Aziraphale out of his skin. Crowley’s been fast to fall asleep, Aziraphale had _expected_ him to be out already. The mattress shifts, Crowley pressing up close to his back to spoon him. “Tell me what you’re thinking, dove.”

“Just... you’re sure, about this mate business?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper. “About spending that much time with me... forever?” Crowley hums, sliding an arm around Aziraphale to hold him closer.

“’Course I am,” he replies, “would I joke about something like that?”

“It’s not that,” Aziraphale corrects, “I just— I was always told that tradition was the most important thing in a pack. It holds everything together, and what happens when we’re breaking it?” Crowley sighs, pressing a kiss to Aziraphale’s shoulder.

“Y’know what tradition is here?” he asks. Aziraphale shakes his head, and Crowley’s hand gropes in the dark down Aziraphale’s arm until he finds his hand to hold, and then lifts it to press a kiss to the back. “Courting and asking until the person, as long as they’re still interested, says yes.”

“Really?” Aziraphale asked. Crowley hums an acknowledgement and Aziraphale takes it, because Crowley’s not terribly vocal when tired.

“Dad asked mum _four_ times before she decided he was worth it,” Crowley offers with a little smile against Aziraphale’s neck, “It’s about love, and if you think you could build what you want with that person.” Crowley rests his head between Aziraphale’s shoulder blades. “Do you think we can build something sturdy together?”

“Of course I do,” Aziraphale answers.

“Yeah,” Crowley whispers, “me too. ‘S why I asked you, angel. I wanna build something with you, if you’ll have me.” Aziraphale shifts in Crowley’s arms, turning to face him.

“I’ll always have you,” he replies, pressing a kiss to Crowley’s head. “Now get some sleep, I don’t like it when you’re cranky.” They both laugh, still wrapped around each other under the blankets

“G’night, angel,” Crowley mutters as he closes his eyes. “Love you.” Aziraphale sighs, content and warm and sleep quickly getting to him.

“I love you too, dear,” he replies in the quiet of the room, closing his eyes and drifting to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ALMOST posted this on Wednesday, and then the writing bug bit me to add onto it, and then I couldn't split it as is the struggle. On the bright side, we've finally caught up to around 15k of prewritten stuff, so that's a bonus! Thanks for bearing with me and reading!

**Author's Note:**

> So there is chapter one! I hope you enjoyed reading, because I absolutely love writing this. I'm still trying to iron out a good posting schedule, but there _will_ be a schedule in place. Big thanks to the wonderful people in the Discord servers I'm in that let me yell and ramble about this niche little AU. Tags will be updated as the story progresses, but the rating will get bumped and warnings (primarily for violence). Leave a comment if you enjoyed and kudos if you'd like!


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